


Prosthenisis

by the Inktree (the_Inktree)



Series: Furry Spacefuture AU [1]
Category: Zootopia (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Robots & Androids, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Artificial Intelligence, Boy Meets Spaceship, Cyberpunk, Gen, Kinda, Prostheses, Slow Burn, Spaceships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-30
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-07-11 03:31:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 27,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7026787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_Inktree/pseuds/the%20Inktree
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nick thought he had his life sorted out: a steady and lucrative if only-technically-legal gig, a neural implant that only glitched out every couple of months, and more good looks than you could shake a stick at. Then he met the <i>Judith Laverne</i>:  first AI police officer in all of Zootopian space, and the prettiest damn ship he'd ever seen; and somehow she dragged him into her orbit.<br/>That's a lie. He knew exactly how she did it: Blackmail.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You can't touch me

Nick waved his left hand, the metal one, over the next box, quickly finding the electronic tag, then slid the box into the growing line waiting for Finnick to carry them into the shuttle. The two of them moved like a well-oiled machine, unlike Finnick’s left leg, which he’d said he’d take to a machinist three weeks ago. Still, it worked well enough, and these boxes weren’t particularly heavy - Nick could have moved a few himself, if he didn’t mind an aching back tomorrow. The shorter fox didn’t have the reach to carry more than one at a time, but his arms and legs didn’t get tired, so.

Nick's hand read the electronic labels and fed the info to his Augmented Reality display, telling him what was in each box, which way up to store it and whether it had been tampered with. And all without anyone else being able to see.

Anyone like, for example, the person standing behind him, asking in a clearly synthesised voice, “Alright, what’s going on here?”

Though he could almost feel their eyes tracing over his neural link where it sat clamped on the back of his neck, diving up into his skull, Nick forced himself to finish moving a box into order before bothering to answer.

“Sir,” Nick started as he turned around, but stopped when he saw not a mammal with a bionic mouth, but the blank face of an android. An android wearing a police uniform. An android with very prominent hips. “Or uh… Ma’am? I guess?”

“Either is fine,” said the android, purple glow of her optics pulsing in time with her words. Nick glanced over the halo of AR tags that had popped up around her, telling him a lot about her protective vest, comm, and taser, but very little about her body. Apparently, the all-knowing internet’s sum total of information about her was that her chassis was designed to look like a rabbit. _Thanks, internet,_ the fox thought as he dismissed the tags, _No way I could have figured that out myself._

“Officer Judy Hopps, ZPD. I have a few ques-”

Nick interrupted her, trying to keep her on the back foot, “An android cop! Now I’ve seen everything.” Behind him, he heard Finnick clank around to the cockpit to get the engines warming up. They’d been hoping to do this without interruption.

“And you got a uniform too, that's cute. I must say the blue is very flattering against your… Skin? Casing? Actually, I’m surprised they didn’t just paint your badge on your chest…”

He got the distinct impression that if her face had any mobility at all, she would be glaring at him. Something about the angle of her neck suggested rage.

“Clothes make people less likely to treat us like furniture.”

“Ah.” _Good going Wilde. Now, you're not getting that foot out of your mouth, so it's time to double down._ “Well now, that's an understandable mistake, isn't it?”

But he’d lost the initiative and she pressed her advantage, ignoring his half-hearted jibe. “I’m going to need to see some ID, sir, plus evidence of goods received, and if you have anything to declare before showing me around your shuttle, that would be appreciated.” Despite her immobile features, Nick could tell she thought she had him. But she’d overstepped.

“Do you have a warrant to search our vehicle, officer?” He gestured, and the policewoman obediently followed his pointed claw to glance at the side of the shuttle, where a lovingly-painted fox warrior carried a snow-white vixen.

The bunnybot shook her head, got back to the point at hand “I don’t need a warrant if I have probable cause. You’re loading unmarked crates in the shadow of a pedestrian bridge, in one of only seven security camera blindspots in this whole district. Your friend over there has prosthetics which are nearly military grade. You’re obviously up to no good. Given our proximity to the spaceport, I’m inclined to suspect attempted circumvention of customs.”

“Those shapely legs are certainly good at jumping to conclusions, aren't they? While I will admit our business is a little morally murky, it is not illegal. Also, you still need a warrant. That was an impressive speech and all, but you never actually said you have probable cause, don’t think I didn’t notice. You can't just _imply_ your way into our shuttle, boltbucket. Oh, and, there are _eleven_ camera blind spots in this district.”

The cop’s foot started tapping the ground, a clear indication of frustration.

“They gave you bunny mannerisms, that’s adorable. However, I am feeling generous today, so! Behold.” Nick activated his screen and pulled up a spread of documents, which hung projected in the air over his wrist. “ID, certificate of collected goods, and cargo manifest approved for intra-city transport by the Bureau of Commercial Works. In addition, without waiving my civil rights or assenting to any inspection, I am going to open this one box and show you the contents.” He took a claw to the packing tape and pulled open the nearest box, then slid it across to the android’s feet.

She reached into the box, pulling out a hand, then an ear, and what Nick thought might be a lung. He could practically hear the gears turning in her head. Metaphorically, of course. Nick was well aware that he had no idea how AIs worked.

Judy lifted an arm out of the box, and examined it dubiously. “Prostheses are personally sized. They’re never made in these kinds of numbers. These are old models, and… used.” Her voice grew more panicked as she dug around in the box. “Where did you get all these? What… is this a toe tag? Did you get these from the morgue?”

“Dammit, I told that idiot to get rid of those!” Nick slapped a hand to his forehead. “Yes, these are from the morgue. I’m going to have to return this,” he plucked the anklet out of her hand, the little bracelet still scrolling someone’s eye and fur colours and next-of-kin across its surface. “My partner and I are disposing of these outdated limbs and organs in a safe and socially responsible manner.”

“You’re going to sell them to blackmarket chop-shops, you mean.”

“I’m sorry, ma’am, I can’t reveal my buyers, no matter how underground or unhygienic they may be. There’s a huge demand for cheap prosthetics, and my partner and I, we can supply.”

“Yo Nick! We leavin’?” Finnick called from the shuttle. Nick picked up the last box, sauntered up the ramp, and waved to the aggravated officer.

“I’ve been doing this my whole life, hon, you can’t touch me. Thanks for the chat, though! I’ll be sure to look you up if I ever need an overgrown calculator!”

  


***

  


If Finnick’s parting laugh was any indication, Nick’s little predicament with the bunnybot cop and the _novelty carrot pen_ (of all things!) was going to be the subject of story time at the bar that night. _I’m never living this down._

Nick sighed and looked again at the image of the otter the cop was projecting. “I don't know what happened to him, I only know where he went.”

“Lead on, Mister Wilde.”

Nick lead the way through mid-afternoon traffic, taking a shortcut down an alleyway too narrow for the larger mammals. As they emerged again onto the wider walkways Judy asked “For the record: you did sell him the prosthetic in the picture?”

“Yeah, I sold the hand to Otterton. Then he went across the street to Mystic Springs Oasis. It's a naturist club.”

“‘Naturist’? I don't like the sound of that.”

“Relax, Hopps, these aren’t the prostheses-are-unnatural crazies, they’re be-naked-in-public crazies.”

“Wait, those exist?” Judy’s ears sprang up. Nick was starting to get the impression she used them to compensate for her lack of eyebrows. Certainly they were more expressive than the ears of any other rabbit he’d met.

“Yeah, there’s plenty of people who don’t much care for clothes. Come on,” he added, heading for the monorail station, “We need the transcontinental train.”

“No, the other ones, the anti-prostheses people. They exist?”

Nick paused for a moment, avoiding the feet of a passing rhino. “What? You haven’t heard of Pro-Naturals? There was this whole massive thing what, 6 years ago now, where they made all this fuss about ‘losing our way’ and ‘metal has no soul’.”

“Oh. That explains why I never heard of them. I couldn’t really pay attention to the news at the time.”

“Right, the whole slavery bit.” Nick pointed at their train as it came in, hum of its engines barely audible over the conversation on the platform. “Actually, the pro-nats have been pretty quiet since androids were declared mammals. Half their argument down the drain right there, I guess.” He picked a seat near the doors; they wouldn’t be on the train for long.

“I don’t see how they had an argument in the first place,” Judy said as she hopped up beside him, turning her head to watch the landscape speed by.

“They’re idiots. And really uh…” Nick waved his hands in front of him, groping for the word, “sheltered? It’s like they think I’ve got hunks of metal on my arm and neck as a… fashion statement, or something. Like they never consider I might be a vegetable without my neural link. I mean, it’s only the really gung-ho militaries that’ll chop off a limb just to replace it, everybody else who has a prosthesis lost their original, and cloned organs are more expensive than even high-end prostheses. There’s really no other option, unless they want us to be disabled for the rest of our lives! Which I wouldn’t put past the bigots.”

He realised he was ranting to a whole monorail car of mammals. Deflection time _._ “Uh… You know, I wasn’t really paying attention to the news when you guys won your big legal battle. Did your owners kick up a fuss about losing their servants? Did they make you pay them your current worth or something?”

“The court ruled that ZRMM had created people and then knowingly held them in slavery for years. If an owner could prove they had no idea we were sentient they could sue the manufacturer for our cost, but most didn’t want their name associated with the whole mess.”

Nick didn’t really have a response to that, and they lapsed into an uncomfortable silence for the rest of the journey.

  


***

  


“What did you say? Any moron can run a ship ID? If _only_ there were a moron around who was up to the task.”

Judy’s smirk could have given Nick’s usual smugness a run for its money. He tried to argue, but she had him by the metaphorical balls, and she knew it. _Not that my big mouth is helping._ He quickly admitted defeat.

“Officer, The DIV is in the next system over.”

“I know, follow me. While we walk to the hangar, did Otterton mention why he needed a hand?”

“He said the one he’d been working on had some sort of malfunction, something software, and he wasn’t willing to risk his client’s health. Needed a new one on short notice.”

“He’s one of your regular buyers, right? He works at a chop-shop?”

“No, actually, he’s midmarket. Does custom mods and personal fitting for people willing to pay more than a chop-shop charges but less than the big players like Sarif Industries do. His workshop’s in the basement under the florist.”

Judy was concentrating on her screen, where notes were appearing faster than even a cheetah could type. _That’s a neat trick_ , Nick thought, _I wonder if I can set my N-link up for that?_

A thought struck him. “Hang on, bolts. How’s your ride parked in walking distance of the Mystic Springs when we took the train from the other side of the world?”

“You could say I called ahead.”

“Yes good, very cryptic, well done. I didn’t hear any phone-call. Tell me really.”

But Judy wouldn’t be drawn on the subject, and he didn’t want to needle her too much, what with the whole blackmail thing.

They arrived at the public hangar and Judy waved to the doormammal on the way in. The old lemur waved back, clearly recognising her, and moved to open the roof hatch for them.

“So…” Nick tried to restart the conversation as they strode through the eclectic collection of vehicles, “They let an AI drive? Don’t you guys have trouble getting licenses? Something about your photos never turning out right.”

Judy did an excellent impression of being aghast, all the more impressive given her lack of jaw to drop. “Did you just make a ‘they all look the same to me’ joke?”

He shrugged, smirk well in place. “It’s not stereotyping if it’s true. Oooh, or is it that you can’t drive, and that’s why you need to blackmail a handsome fox to do it for you. If so, you’ve come to the right guy. I’m something of an expert in ships and shuttles, even if I do say so myself. Whatever your ride is, I can pilot it.”

“Hah! Not likely, ‘sly fox’. Here we are.”

Nick couldn’t help letting out a whistle. Before him stood the sleekest ride he’d seen in a lightclass vessel. Subdued grey with bold lines of ZPD blue, she balanced elegantly on three struts, and as he watched the loading ramp slid smoothly to the floor. “Damn, she’s pretty. Look at those curves!” He reached out a paw, dragging his pads along a fin, “This is so smooth! And do my eyes deceive me? Two, three… seven Lap-Vex nine engines?” He dashed over to rub his cheek against one of the elegant cone-shaped thrusters. “You must get amazing acceleration in this thing. I think I’m in love! What’s the cruising speed like?”

When he didn’t get an answer he turned to look at Judy, but what he saw wiped the smile from his face. Her arms were crossed, her foot tapped the floor at eye-watering speed, and her ears were so stiff they were practically vibrating.

“Get. Your. Paws. Off. My. Engines.”

Nick did.

“In.”

Nick did.

The inside was just as elegant. Judy stomped up the ramp behind him and herded him forward into the cockpit. Nick swallowed to keep from drooling. The pilot’s console gleamed, the floors were soft underpaw, and a gentle light emanated from strips in the ceiling, softening every line and shadow.

“Sorry about that, sweetheart. It’s just, your ship! It’s so pretty! This must be a luxury cruiser. How’d you wrangle this as a cop?”

“You’re sorely mistaken,” the android said as she settled into an alcove in the wall, clearly custom-built to hold her. “I don’t pilot the _Judith Laverne_ ,” and the light in her optics went dark.

Then her voice came from the ceiling over his head, and the dashboard lit up the same beautiful purple he’d been talking to all day.

“I _am_ the ship!”

As it turned out, FTL was a lot more comfortable in an automatically-adjusting, contoured pilot’s chair. _Or rather_ , Nick amended with a glance at the ceiling, _co-pilot’s chair_.

  


***

  


“So… when I was drooling all over the paintwork outside…”

“Yes?”

“That’s you. That’s your body.”

“Yes.”

…

“… Thank you for not tasing me?”

“… You’re welcome.” He thought he detected a hint (just a hint!) of amusement in her voice. “Thank you for the compliments.”


	2. Tide-Locked

After a relaxing afternoon swapping jokes with his friends at the Department of Interstellar Vehicles, Nick was feeling a lot better. The same could not be said of Judy. As they walked across the DIV parking lot toward the _Judith Laverne_ , Nick fancied that the heat of her frustration put a pleasant warmth in his chest. Or maybe it was just the friction from her vibrating ears. He decided to poke the fire a bit.

“You look a bit frazzled, bunny. Are your drivers up to date?” He reached toward her ear, intending to tweak it. Would she feel that? The smooth polymer hid armatures that let her twist and move them, and they were easily the most expressive part of her whole body. Of both bodies, really.

She batted his hand away and pointed back at the DIV. “That was interminable. How are they so slow?”

Nick feigned offence, “Officer, you can’t say that about Flash! What happened to AI solidarity, hunh?”

“Nick, those models are all ancient. As much as I love seeing AIs happy with their jobs, why’d they _all_ have to pick _public service_? It makes no sense!”

“The right honourable Leo Lionheart, Senator for Zootopia, is firmly dedicated to equality and inclusivity among all mammals, no matter the station of their birth and/or construction.” Nick mimed holding a microphone to his mouth before holding it out for Judy to answer his questions. “Officer Hopps, are you saying that our Senator’s Mammal Inclusion Initiative is illogical?”

 “What? No, it gave me-” Judy started, but he didn’t give her time to answer before pulling his hand back and interrupting with the next question.

“Do you believe that an AI’s proper place is in the kitchen?”

“Well obviously n-”

“Would you say that AIs are a ‘clear and present threat to our civil liberties’ or do you think they are more ‘soulless clockwork demons masquerading as thinking, feeling beings’?”

“Stop putting words in my mouth!”

Nick took a moment to enjoy the thump of her foot, the clench of her fists. He bent down and put his smuggest smirk right in her face. She stepped back, ears alert, hand dropping to her shock baton.

“You’re cute when you’re angry.”

She relaxed for just a moment before waving a finger in his face. “Don’t call me cute!”

He turned away, sauntering on around the ship toward her loading ramp. He resisted the urge to reach out and trace his hand along her sweet sweet curves, but only just. “Oh hush. We got what we came for. Eventually.”

“No thanks to you!”

“Hey, those were top-notch jokes.”

Judy shuddered, “No, no they weren’t.”

“Officer, I am hurt!” _Specifically, my cheeks hurt from grinning._ “I suppose we’re off to Tundra, now?”

“Yup,” She confirmed, trotting up the ramp behind him, “Despite your dishonourable and underhanded delay tactics, we’ve still got more than half our 48 hours left.”

As the ramp sealed with a hiss, she looked him up and down, noting his colourful shirt and denim jacket, then said, “You want to grab some warmer clothes? Tundra-Sahara is tide-locked, and we’re headed to the night side.”

“I’ve lived in this cluster my whole life, Flopsy. I know Tundra. Trust me, this jacket is warm enough.”

 

***

 

“…And I’m pretty sure I saw a _shifty lowlife_ climbing the fence. So you’re helping plenty! Come on!”

As he followed Judy deeper into Tundra Limo Service’s private hangar, Nick tried to discreetly rub some warmth back into his hands. _How do I always forget how cold this place is?_ In the gloom, ships of various sizes and shapes loomed like sleeping giants.

“You’re a harsh mistress, Bunnybutt. I am looking forward to the end of our 48 hours. I’m gonna need closure after this kind of treatment. I think I’ll take that pen and find an elephant to stomp on it for me.”

Judy just shook her head. Something behind her optics clicked on, and a bright cone of light pierced the darkness. Nick pulled out his penlight, which was dim and weak and frankly kind of impotent in comparison. Judy glanced down at it, then back up at Nick.

“Shut up,” he growled, squinting in the glare of her light.

“I didn’t say anything.” Nick swore he could hear the smile in her voice, despite her, you know, not having a mouth.

They explored the rows of vehicles, shining their lights on each in turn. The floor was hard and cold underfoot, and Nick broke the silence when his half-numb feet stumbled over some discarded hand tools. _Not the tidiest of operations_ , he thought, glancing around at the used parts and maintenance equipment which littered the floor.

They found the limo they were looking for standing among its brethren, all of them pearly white with silver trim, long and lean. And locked. “Never fear, Officer, I’ll get us in,” Nick declared, rolling up his left sleeve.

“You’re going to do something semi-legal, aren’t you.”

Nick pulled up his screen and waved his metal palm over the limo’s door. “I can neither confirm nor deny any near-lawbreaking that may or may not occur in the next, oh, thirty seconds.”

“Thirty seconds? You think you can get it done that fast?”

He grinned at her. “Watch me!”

There was a moment of silence as he started up his lockbreaker program.

“I… I can’t.”

“Hunh?” Nick looked up from the lock. Judy had turned away, seemingly watching the hangar’s door. Her ears were down though.

“I can’t watch. My visual records, or at least, the ones from this drone,” she gestured down at her bipedal body, “are admissible in court, and can be sourced by any officer with a warrant.”

“You… you don’t get any privacy at all? That sucks.”

“It’s no big deal. Just one more thing on the list of sacrifices I’ve made for this job.”

“Hopps… that’s… really sad.” _How long is that list?_

She nodded, but only slightly, before turning on him. “No, what’s really sad is that I’m going to _lose_ said job because my ‘civilian expert’ is taking more than his allotted thirty seconds!”

“Eep! Yes, ma’am. Right away ma’am!”

Thirty- _five_ seconds later, the door opened to a scene of carnage.

It was the smell that hit Nick first. Even through the numbing cold, it was strong enough he almost lost his lunch. Then he was frozen by the sight:

The inside of the limo was painted in dark swaths of blood.

 

***

 

“Daddeeee! It's time for our dance!” A shrew in a wedding dress squealed as she entered Mr. Big’s cold stone office, “Ah! What did we say? No icing anyone at my wedding!”

No longer plunging downward toward certain cold, Nick and Judy stopped clawing at the hands holding them up. Nick was distracted from the shrews’ ensuing argument over his life by a ping from his AR, alerting him to a new text message. He stared at the little icon where it hovered in his vision, opening the conversation.

 

 **JudyHoppsZPD:** If you get the chance, make a run for it.

 **JudyHoppsZPD:** Leave the drone, head outside. I’ll fly in and pick you up.

 

Nick glanced across at Judy where she hung from Kevin’s paw. His vision was slightly obscured by the angry swarm of red AR tags warning him about the polar bears’ various prostheses and combat implants, all of which were dangerous and very few of which were legal. Judy wasn’t looking at him, but rather down at the dark hexagonal hole below their feet. Nick didn’t blame her. He’d actually seen a few icings before the skunk-butt-rug incident and the whole carbonite process looked, not to put too fine a point on it, _agonising_. Not to mention he still didn’t know what they did with the popsicle-mammals.

 

 **JudyHoppsZPD:** If I have to, I’ll follow whatever ship they use to move you while you’re frozen.

 

The door slammed open and a lynx rushed in. “Mr. Big!” she said, “We’ve got an unknown vehicle hovering just outside the manor grounds!” She activated her screen and pulled up a video feed, holding it out toward the shrews. Mr. Big studied it, gesturing the largest bear to lean down next to him.

“What do you make of this, Koslov?” the tiny kingpin asked.

“Don’t recognise the colours. Looks expensive, sir,” Koslov rumbled, “Can’t be Blood Pack. Could be there’s someone wants to crash the wedding.” They both glanced at the bride, who was peering at the image in puzzlement. The lynx, noticing, turned the screen so that she could better see, and Nick got a glimpse of the _Judith Laverne_.

 

 **JudyHoppsZPD:** Now’s your chance. Get ready, I’m going to kick you free.

 

The little heiress jumped, exclaiming, “That’s the ship that saved my life yesterday! From the giant doughnut!”

Judy’s feet hit Nick in the shoulder and hip like twin freight trains, tearing his jacket out of Raymond’s hand and sending Nick spinning into the corner of the room. When he wasn’t immediately tackled by a pile of bears he lifted his head and looked back at the rest of the room.

Kevin now had Judy by both her neck and her ankles, while Koslov had scooped up Mr. and Miss Big and stepped back behind another pair of polar bears. Raymond was bent low, arms wide, trying to box Nick into the corner.

Nick ignored them all as he stood up, straightening his shirt and jacket. He flicked a clump of white fur off his shoulder and called out to the shrews, putting on his best friendly-salesman voice, “You like the ship, do you Miss? Would you care to meet the pilot?”

 

***

 

The flight from Tundra was silent, and tense. Nick couldn’t get the images out of his head – the blood on the limo’s upholstery, the steam rising from the carboniser, the feel of Raymond’s piston-powered grip on his neck. Judy’s drone, rather than stowing itself in the slot in the wall, was pacing back and forth in the limited space of the cockpit.

Just before the silence became oppressive, the dashboard’s purple glow pulsed. “Insane.”

“This is insane,” Judy repeated, louder. “We were looking for a missing otter, and now we hear that the co-pilot of the limo he was in went crazy, slaughtered the crew until the pilot managed to space him, _and_ the otter disappeared, not even leaving a _body_! All while said otter was on his way to the biggest crime lord in nearspace to warn him about… something! Owlers? Howlers? Flowers? No-one knows!”

“Yeah,” Nick agreed, “Worst part is you can’t call in backup yet.”

“Frell that! As soon as we drop out of FTL I’m getting the Chief on this, this is way above my pay grade. Why wouldn’t I?” It was weird watching her drone gesture animatedly while her voice issued from the ceiling.

“No evidence,” Nick explained, leaning back and closing his eyes. _Blood and steam and_ \- He opened his eyes again. “Only got the word of a crime boss who didn’t see it himself.” _And a crime scene that was discovered illegally_.

“I… You… Arg!” The pacing stopped for a moment. “You’re right. Mr. Big won’t want to talk to the ZPD.”

“Believe me, I wish I wasn’t. Would have been nice to leave this whole mess in someone else’s hands.”

As they settled into orbit above the jungle world, waiting for approach authorisation from traffic control, something occurred to Nick. _Well, anything for a good distraction._ “So the side of the ship says _Judith Laverne_ , but your badge also says Hopps. What’s up with that? Did they give you a nickname because you’re bunny-shaped?”

“It’s the name of my model. ZRMM goes in for puns.”

“Ouch. And I thought _my_ last name was generic. Was ‘Zedarm’ your manufacturer then?”

“It’s an acronym. Zootopian Robots and Mechanical Mammals. In an effort to get some consistency of personality, they had us all running these bunny-droids as soon as we’d developed enough. We didn’t get installed in ships until they were sure each of us was stable.”

“Were they worried you were gonna explode?”

“Psychologically stable. You don’t want a ship that’s a sociopath, or worse, suicidal. We were a big investment. Ooh, that reminds me of a funny story.” The drone sat up and held up an arm at head-height, fingers flat. The universal this-is-a-spaceship pose. “So my brother _Half a Glass of Awful Brandy_ was cruising at fifty-thou, right? And his co-pilot says-”

“Wait… You have siblings?”

“Hunh? Yeah. That’s what we call each other, anyway. The way AI’s are made, we basically grew up together. Well, except the prototypes: _Studious Concentration_ and _Bonfires at Solstice_. They’re kinda like our parents.”

“How about that. A whole family.”

“Yup. All two-hundred and seventy-eight of us.”

“Wow.” _That is a lot of bunnybots_. “Why the weird names?”

“Once we were declared citizens we chose our own names. Some AIs were…” she paused, as if struggling with phrasing, before settling on: “less restrained than I was. Basically everyone got nicknames in short order. Anyway, as I was saying, Hal was cruising along, and his co-pilot…”

 

***

 

After Judy finished telling her story (and Nick finished laughing himself half to death) the fox frowned, putting on a pensive air.

“I can’t call you Officer Hopps, not if we’re gonna be partners.”

“We’re not partners, Wilde. Just Judy is fine.”

“‘Just Judy’? Makes you sound like a judge. No, that won’t do. I’ll call you…” and his eyes fell on the slim cones of her Lop-Vex thrusters, “Carrots! Perfect.”

The drone actually glanced out the window. “No.”

 “Yes!” He grinned at catching her off guard.

“No.”

“Yes!”

“No.”

“Yes! I can do this all day, Carrots.”

“I am literally powered by isotopes whose half-lives are greater than the age of the universe. No.”

“Yes!”

“No!”

“Yes!”


	3. Out on a limb

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, this one gave me a bit of trouble. It's done now, though. You guys ready for some action?
> 
> Not sure if I should warn for gore here. It's fairly brief and not particularly explicit, but still more than was in the movie.

It wasn’t often Nick met someone with four prosthetic limbs other than Finnick. There aren’t many things in the galaxy which can take all a mammal’s limbs without taking their life. For Finnick it had been a congenital deformity. For Mr. Manchez, Nick would guess violence, going by the pilot’s connection to Mr. Big. When he answered the door the black jaguar was barefoot, and the white singlet he was wearing bared prosthetic shoulders, arms, neck, and one eye, all of them matte black and studded with subtle green lights. The lights, a fairly common mod (which in Nick’s humble opinion was likely to go out of fashion in a year or so), would have been barely visible anywhere else, but in the night they drew glowing arcs through the air when Manchez moved, giving the jaguar an ethereal air.

“When was the last time you saw Mr. Otterton?” Judy was gently questioning Manchez through the barely-open door of his groundlevel home, which nestled between the enormous buttress roots of the tree that towered above them. The line of light spilling out of the door was the only illumination on the doorstep, and Nick was hyperaware of how visible Judy was, with her purple optics and her glowing screen. _Then again, jaguars have good night-vision. I probably don’t look_ too _much like a creep._

“I was with him just before- Just before the attack.” The jaguar’s voice was soft and deep. In another life he could have made a fortune voicing audiobooks and advertising. “He said something… Just when it started, Otterton said… something about an owl. ‘The owl is in him’, I think.”

“The owl is in him?” Judy muttered dubiously, but she noted it down, text appearing on her screen.

Nick was cold, and his feet were starting to sink into the rich wet earth. “Mr. Manchez, we’re going to have to ask you some questions about the attack. Would you, perhaps, be more comfortable sitting down for that?”

“Yeah, okay.” Manchez closed the door, and they heard him unlatch the chain. But then silence.

“Mr. Manchez?” Judy asked quietly, pushing the door. It opened a little, revealing the jaguar with a hand raised to the handle, keeping the door from opening further. “Did you change your mind?”

Manchez’ non-prosthetic eye was wide. “I… I can’t move. Why can’t I…” Then he raised his right hand in front of him, one finger pointed, whispered, “What,” and then _slammed it into his face_.

Judy and Nick recoiled with gasps of horror, unable to look away as the jaguar pulled his finger, bloody and dripping, out of his ruined eyesocket. Nick, gaze fixed on that bloody hand, noted absently that Manchez had changed the colour of his little lights – they were red now.

When Manchez slammed the door open and stepped forward, claws raised, Judy pushed Nick out of the way, drawing her taser and firing in one smooth movement. Nick saw a flash as the charge hit Manchez right in the chest, but the jaguar didn’t even slow down.

Judy dove to the side, rolling out of the way as the big cat tore through the space she’d been standing in. “Run,” she said, “Run!” and grabbed Nick’s hand to drag him along.

They dashed through the underbrush, ducking under ferns and leaping fallen branches. Dodging around trees whenever they could, they were still losing ground to the larger mammal’s long strides. Nick chanced a glance back, quickly picking out the red streaks of the little lights where Mr. Manchez ran, arms pumping at his sides.

Judy’s call brought his attention back to the front. “Wall! I’ll give you a boost!” And sure enough, there was a long retaining wall in front of them, braced by solid concrete beams. Judy dashed ahead, a silver blur, and stopped, crouching coiled with her hands woven into a stirrup. Nick took the hint and placed his foot in her hands, and she heaved, sending him up into the air to hook his elbows over the edge of the retaining wall. Then she crouched, and leapt clear over the top of the wall, landing beside him and reaching down to take his hand.

“You,” Nick gasped out as she hauled him up, “are not factory standard.”

“Had to upgrade for the academy,” she said, not even a little out of breath. _Wait a minute,_ Nick thought, s _he’s an android. She doesn’t breathe!_

He glanced back as he started running, saw that Judy had her taser out again. “That won’t work, Carrots, he’s dead! That finger went right through to his brain!”

She swore and dashed after him, catching up in moments. “Then how is he chasing us?”

“His prostheses are moving on their own!”

Judy, once again demonstrating her _completely unfair_ ability to talk without breathing, pulled out her police communicator and called for backup. “Romeo Delta Dispatch this is Officer Hopps. I have a twenty-three nineteen. Location is Canopyton, corner of Vine and Tajunga. Black jaguar, four prosthetic limbs.”

“Copy that, Hopps. Vine and Tajunga, we have your transponder. Backup is on its way.”

The underbrush disappeared as they emerged into a cleared area around a tall fence. _Not good,_ Nick thought, and sure enough Manchez was gaining on them on the clear flat ground. _Fence is climbable, but not quickly_. Nick peered into the evening gloom as he and Judy ran along the fenceline, looking for… “There!” he pointed, and Judy raced forward to dive through the hole first. Nick followed on her heels, tumbling through just inches in front of the jaguar’s flashing claws. He pushed himself up off the ground, ignoring the mud and leaves, and started moving again.

Not wasting a moment, Manchez threw himself at the hole. It wasn’t big enough for him. Judy’s ears twisted backwards at a sudden snap in the quiet forest, and when Manchez leaped the fence and landed on their side, his jaw was dangling, broken off at one side.

“Cheese and crackers, he just doesn’t stop.” Judy muttered.

Nick spent a few precious breaths on a question: “Why are we running to the ship? Bring the ship to us!”

“I don’t have under-canopy certification!”

“Screw the certification, Carrots, he’s gonna catch us!”

“It’s not just rules, Nick! If I try to fly down here I’ll hit something, break myself, hurt someone, _and_ cause huge amounts of property damage, and _we’ll still be running!_ ” She paused a moment, then swore, “Frell! Map says there’s no denser forest around here.”

“We _need_ denser forest. On clear ground he’ll catch us.”

“Right. He’s bigger. Heavier too. Soft ground! Head downhill!”

When they came within sight of a wide, shallow creek, Nick glanced back to check how much lead they had left. _Are we gonna make it?_

“We’re not gonna make it.” The red-streaked shadow that was the approaching cat was approaching too quickly. Nick looked around, panic rising fast as he searched for something, anything that might help them. “Carrots! Drainage pipe!”

Turning as one, the two took a few more steps away from the creek and scrambled into the narrow concrete pipe. Three metres in, there was an iron grille that stopped them. They turned to watch as a metal arm reached into the pipe, a dark shape studded with red glows, stretching, feeling, flailing. Thankfully, they were out of reach.

Their attacker started clawing at the edge of the pipe, and with a crack a chunk of concrete fell to the ground. It continued working at the opening, its slack, empty face and dangling jaw steadily getting closer as the pipe cracked and crumbled. It was quiet too – no growls or even breathing, just the whirr of servos and the crunch and scrape of metal claws on concrete. Nick, with his excellent night vision, could see blood oozing from the jaguar’s shoulders, matting the fur where the prostheses meet flesh. _It’s overridden the safeties,_ he thought, _it’s pulling him apart._ Judy squeezed past him, pushed him back against the grille, her shock baton at the ready.

They heard the wail of approaching sirens, and the body of Mr. Manchez stopped clawing its way in, turning the bionic eye to look up at the canopy, where blue-and-red flashes were approaching, heralded by brilliant white spotlights. Then the jaguar turned and silently disappeared into the night.

Judy sagged against Nick and didn’t move until he nudged her toward the opening.

 

***

 

Back on the _Judith Laverne_ , Judy’s drone stood with both hands over her badge. “Thanks.”  
“For what?” Nick was still a little twitchy after meeting the Chief, “For standing up to buffalo-butt? He called you a _robot_ , carrots! It literally means ‘slave’! I know I said similar when we met but… he’s your boss. That’s not right. I couldn’t just stand there.”

There was a moment of silence, while Nick jigged his foot and drummed his fingertips on his forehead.

 “Still… Thanks.” Judy looked over at him, “You’re stimming, Nick. Are you ok?”

“Sorry, just… nervous. Big bigoted mammals do that to me.”

“Don’t apologise. You need anything? I’m all ears!” She wiggled her ears in illustration.

Nick smiled at the joke. “I’ll be good in a bit. Happens occasionally, ever since…” he trailed off.

Judy didn’t say a word while Nick worked out what he was going to say. He was… actually going to tell her. _Hunh. I guess defending me from a rampaging jaguar makes her ‘safe’ as far as my anxiety’s concerned._

“I lost my hand to a nanotech spill.” He drew a long breath, and slouched deeper into the co-pilots seat. “When I was eight, or maybe nine, the traffic routes were changed and a high-volume laneway was put in over our neighbourhood. You know those nanobots they use for heavy-duty cleaning, that disassemble organic material? There was a big hauler full of them which had a shipcrash over our apartment building. Most of the canisters stayed closed. The ones that broke mostly only did property damage. The bots only last about five seconds, because they don’t want them getting out of control, but one canister landed in my bed, so it was close enough that in just five seconds…”

He took a deep breath, kneading his hands into the chair. The drone stepped forward and sat down beside him. The chair shifted underneath them, adjusting to accommodate them both.

“I still remember being surprised how little it hurt. Those little bots work so fast the nerves don’t even notice. No pain, just… my hand was gone. Oh, and… once they stopped I lost a _lot_ of blood. It was messy. I passed out for probably a week and a half, and when I woke up, Mom was there. She hugged me and told me they were paying for a new arm. I never did find out who ‘they’ were. I think there was insurance stuff and lawsuits going on, but I was a kid. I was too busy worrying about what my friends would think.”

He was staring unseeing out the window now, his ears low.

“My friends, it turned out, were fine with it, and after the novelty wore off I stopped being Nick-with-the-arm and was just Nick again. But there were some who didn’t get it. I mean, this might surprise you, Carrots, but most kits don’t lose limbs!” Nick stopped talking to breathe, in and out, until he could speak without his voice climbing into hysteria.

“So yeah. I was different, and therefore a target. Collected a few bruises, got called lots of names. Robot-hand, the Claw, Ticktock. I got pretty good at talking my way out of things, running and hiding. But I’m a small mammal. All it took was one hippo kid hitting me a little too hard… That’s… that’s when I had to get the n-link.”

Nick fell silent, staring at his metal palm.

“Without my n-link I’d be a vegetable. Without my hand I’d be a cripple. Sometimes it feels like I’m just a puppet made for carting these two hunks of metal around.”

“Nick…” Judy placed a hand gently over his. Her other touched his chin, pulling his gaze up to her optics. “You are so much more than that.”

The care in her voice made him wonder how anyone ever could have thought AIs were non-sentient.

 _Ok, that’s enough feelings. C’mon Nick, maintain that smuggler mystique_. Nick turned away from her purple stare, sat up straight, and changed the subject. Judy, it seemed, was perceptive enough to let him. But she didn’t move the drone from his side.

 “So, ‘the Owl is in him’ hunh? Doesn’t make much sense to me, Carrots.”

“I’ve looked up owls, and I can’t find any relevant reference. I mean, they’re a kind of bird, a carnivore, they’re nocturnal, they prey on small animals like snakes, lizards, and smaller birds.”

“But nothing to do with going crazy, or red.”

“Nope. Wait, why red?”

“Didn’t you see it, Carrots? Manchez’ lights changed from green to red. It’s gotta be connected. I just don’t see how. Unless he took a moment to change the colour before he went mad.”

“Hmm… maybe someone at the precinct’s heard something. I’ll make some calls. Sorry if I’m a bit distracted, splitting my attention does that sometimes.”

“You’re calling them? Right now?”

“Yeah. Talking to Clawhouser first. He hasn’t heard anything.”

“I don’t know who that is, but the fact that you have a phone in your head is very cool.”

“Technically, the phone is in the processor hub on board.” The drone pointed a finger back towards the stern. “Not that it couldn’t fit in my head, but it’s more secure there. While I call, let’s go over what we know.” A screen popped up over the dashboard and began filling with images and notes. Judy’s drone stood to reach it, while Nick stayed in the chair, his arms more than long enough.

 “Manchez was fine moments before whatever happened… happened,” Nick said, pointing at the image of the Jaguar in his doorway.

“Which at present we think is his prostheses going out of control,” Judy replied.

“Right, evidenced by the fact they immediately killed him,” Nick shuddered, “and then came after us.”

“They also ignored damage to his body as they were chasing us.” Judy tapped images indicating Manchez’ injuries.  “The eye, the jaw -”

“-and the exertion damage.” Nick snapped his fingers, ears perked at an idea, “Here’s a thought: they could probably only see us because of his prosthetic eye.”

“That makes sense. I wonder if he’d had a bionic mouth, would they have said anything?”

“Who knows, Carrots. Whoever was controlling them must have a VR rig, they were too coordinated to be doing anything else.”

“Really? You think someone was remote-controlling them?”

“Can’t be anything else, prostheses don’t have the processing power to walk on their own, let alone hunt, and they’re not typically networked together in the first place, so… the perp must have planted a transmitter on him!”

“Ooh, now I wish he’d stuck around to get caught. Probably why he left when the cavalry arrived…”

They thought in silence for a few moments, until Judy cursed, “Damnit!”

“What?” Nick asked, eyes wide.

“I asked the officers working the other missing mammals cases if they’d had anything related to prostheses, but they all refused to say! Stupid seniority-based hierarchy.” The drone flopped down in the chair. “Still, I’ve put a flag in the system that’ll ping me if any virtual reality set-ups show up in suspicious circumstances. There’s not much else I can do, this was my one good lead.”

Nick cleared his throat, “I might be able to help you there. There’s a bar I know, called the Understory Stump. I’ve a friend there who keeps her ear to the ground. If anybody knows anything about prosthetics going rogue, she does. Here, I’ll send you the co-ords.”

“Thanks Nick! You really do know everyone.”

“Also, I should warn you, the Stump is not very friendly to cops, so uh… you have any other clothes?”

Nick briefed Judy on the bar while the drone went to change. Five minutes later she emerged from the starboard cabin wearing jeans and a pink plaid shirt. Nick covered his mouth to keep from laughing.

“You dress like a mark, Carrots. You walk in there looking like that and half the room is going to try to con you. Not to mention how you’ll make the pickpockets salivate.”

“My wardrobe is far from extensive, Nick.” She was tense for a moment, then her ears sagged, “But if I’m honest it’s all variations on this theme. I don’t think there’s any clothes stores open this late though.”

“No, but we can make it work. Put your belt back on, and borrow my jacket. It’ll be oversized, but that just implies you’re hiding weapons.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her, grinning.

She did as he said, clipping on her belt, but as he draped the jacket over her shoulders, she contradicted him: “‘Implies’? No, if this bar is the wretched hive of scum and villainy you’re describing, I’m definitely bringing my taser and baton.”

“Point.” He adjusted the jacket around her equipment belt, then stepped back and admired his handywork. “Now _there’s_ a no-nonsense android.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm thinking about changing the title of the fic. Thoughts?


	4. The Dark Side

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDITED 13 July to fix the drone magically teleporting out of its dock between paragraphs xP

As they walked toward the Stump, past nightclubs and strip joints flashing bright and blinding in the perpetual twilight of the lower forest, Nick told Judy about the vixen they were meeting with.

“Christine’s an old partner of mine, we used to run this hustle where she played the victim to my abusive boyfriend act. Now she’s a bounty hunter. Tells clients to call her Crystal, the nerd.”

They passed a club calling itself Pole Cats, and Nick watched Judy’s head turn to track the big screen over the door. It showed a looping video of male and female tigers gyrating next to each other. The tigress had an elegant prosthetic arm which included a screen projector, if the sinuous patterns crawling in the air around the arm were any indication.

“See something you like?” Nick whispered in Judy’s ear, grinning in anticipation of her embarrassment.

That she provided in full, stuttering, “I- uh… no, but it’s… new, seeing it out in the open.” Nick glanced meaningfully up at the dense canopy far overhead, and Judy added, “so to speak. The difference between knowledge and experience I guess.”

“No, though? All that flesh on display doesn’t get your engine revving?”

“Not really. I didn’t end up with any sexual attraction the way some of my siblings did.”

He shrugged, “Fair enough, I guess.”

The Understory Stump, when they entered it, looked just as Nick remembered. Warm lights and hardwood (of course) furniture gave it a welcoming feel, mostly countered by the hunched shoulders and suspicious glances of the clientele.

Christine was right where Nick always found her: the centre of attention, bathing in the adoring gazes of no less than three fine specimens of canine masculinity. Christine was nestled in the centre, a slim arctic fox with dazzling blue eyes sitting on a plush red couch, snow-white fur brushed to a shine and silver earrings tinkling as her ears perked up at their approach. One was a timberwolf, broad and tall, lying at her feet with a look of bliss on his face while she petted his head. Beside her on the couch, a hyena was carefully running a soft brush down her perfectly styled tail. Finally, a grey fox was massaging her shoulders where the halter-type neckline of her dress exposed them. All three of them were shirtless, a stark contrast to Christine’s elegant clothing. She glanced up, gave the wolf one last ear-skritch, then sent her attendants away, “Boys, give us some privacy for a bit, I’ve got an old friend to catch up with.” The fox behind her extended his claws to rake them over her shoulders before the three canids moved toward the bar.

Christine turned away from watching the three wagging tails (and the well-defined backs they were attached to) sauntering off and gifted Nick with a warm smile. “Hello honey, how goes the hustle?”

“Very well, thank you.” Nick feigned nonchalance for a moment before grinning back, “Christine! I barely recognise you without the dye-job. Finally growing up, are we?”

Christine raised her arms and Nick leaned in for the required hug, knowing it wasn’t worth the five-minute argument that denying her would bring. “Please, Nick, you can’t talk. You still argue like a pre-schooler. I just got tired of people making ‘feeling blue’ jokes all day every day. Now, introduce me to your intriguing companion.”

“Crystal, this is Judy Hopps, first AI police officer in all of Zootopia.”

“Delighted to meet you, dear.” She leaned forward conspiratorially “You made the right choice coming in civvies, this bar’s not the most welcoming place for uniforms of any sort.”

“I had heard that.” Judy said, glancing at Nick as she shook Christine’s proffered hand.

“He won’t steer you wrong often, will our Nick. Well, not accidently, anyway,” she added, with a sly smile. “Have a seat, both of you. Waiter!” A tall hyena trotted over from where he’d been standing, clearly hoping to be needed. “A small blueberry brandy for my red friend here. And,” She looked at Judy, who shook her head, “that will be all.”

“Christine, Nick is helping me with an investigation into a missing mammal, and he tells me you may have heard something useful. May I ask you some questions?”

“Right to the point, I like that. Ask away.”

As it turned out, Christine _had_ heard about mammals with prostheses attacking others out of nowhere, and among the gaggle of rumours that always grew around patterns of violence, there was one which said they always decorated themselves in red, whether it be the currently-popular lights or simply splashing paint over themselves. She didn’t know any more than that though. “I can’t point you to any witnesses, but ask around. Lots of prostheses means lots of maintenance, so the chop shops will know who’s gone missing. Also, Nick. You should know. The wombat’s back in the cluster.”

“Really? Frell.”

“Yeah. A while back word went round the ‘hunter network about a retainer that was available. Big money. They were looking for a sharpshooter, though, which as you know,” She nodded at Nick, “is not my strong suit.”

“No indeed.” Nick hadn’t forgotten the sheer terror that he’d felt the one time he’d seen Christine pick up a gun. There had been very few safe directions to approach from.

“But the grapevine tells me that the wombat got the job.”

She didn’t need to give a name. There was only one wombat in bounty-hunting, and he had a reputation. _Everyone’s heard of the Wombat._

“Who’s the Wombat?” asked Judy, looking back and forth between the foxes.

_Everyone except the just-out-of-the-academy AI, I guess._

“He’s a tough, mean bastard of a bounty-hunter, with a reputation for ruthlessness,” Christine explained, “He seems to pride himself on getting things done, whatever means necessary, so he always ends up working for people with more money than morals. And then runs a straight line to his target, trailing collateral damage and making a huge mess.”

Nick added, “And he’s covered in prostheses, so we always get the pointy end of public opinion when he inevitably ends up on the news.”

Christine nodded ruefully. “I let Nick and Finnick know whenever I hear about him because it reduces how often I have to listen to the two of them complain about it.”

“I need to call this in,” Judy hopped down from her stool.

“You can’t use the phone in your head?” Nick asked.

“No, they want me using ‘official channels’.” Judy waved her ZPD-issue comm over her shoulder as she walked over to an empty table in the corner.

Christine immediately grabbed nick’s shoulders and spun him around, gleeful grin plastering her face. “What are you doing tangled up with a cop, Nick? Are you brain damaged?”

“As a matter of fact, I am.” and he tapped his neural link, “but you knew that. But more to the point: She’s got some dirt on me, a little inconvenient blackmail material which makes me her best friend for the next, oh, eight hours. Which is a good thing really, because honestly she really needs the help. She’s been on the force what, two days now and they expect her to solve a missing mammal case on her own? Assholes.”

“Ah, Nick. Always a sucker for the underdog. Doesn’t hurt she’s got nice hips.”

Nick frowned at her. “You know bunnies aren’t my thing. You should see her spaceship, though. Mmm! _That_ is sexy.”

“Is that why you never returned my advances, then? Too much fur, not enough turbojets?” She joked, wriggling in place.

“You know it!” He made it sound like a joke, out of habit. Christine already knew the truth.

“You can’t fool me, Wilde. Don’t think I didn’t notice her wearing _your_ trademark jacket.”

“That’s temporary. Besides, I’m way too old for her, she’s only 15! Can barely dress herself.”

“AIs age differently and you know it, Nick! It’s all measured in clock cycles. Plus, your ears have been pointed at the corner ever since she walked over there.”

Nick flushed, got his ears under control, and sulked in his seat until Judy returned.

The little android barely slowed down to grab nick on the way to the door. “We gotta get going again, Nick. Christine, thank you so much for the information, you’ve been a big help.”

“My pleasure, darling! Come down for a social visit sometime – we can commiserate about Nick’s bad jokes.”

 

***

 

The word from the precinct was that the missing mammal cases were being rolled into one investigation, since most of them had turned up dead, and the Chief wanted Hopps on the prosthetics angle. “An elk was mauled, and eyewitnesses described a mammal with lots of red-glowing prostheses.” Judy told Nick once they had some privacy on the _Judith Laverne_. “We’re gonna try to chase down some more witnesses among your acquaintances in the business, see what patterns turn up.”

“Sounds good, Carrots. I didn’t get any food at the Stump, you got anything to eat around here?”

“Sure. Mess is second on the left.”

Nick came back to the cockpit to eat the eggplant lasagne he’d heated up. When Judy spoke up from overhead he almost choked. “Nick… am I pretty?” The drone was still out and about, ears at half-mast.

Nick swallowed hastily. “I don’t want to accuse you of entrapment, officer, but you know that question is guaranteed to make anyone flee for their lives. How do I answer this without getting tased?”

“No, I’m not… I mean, I’ve only been my own person for four years. And I haven’t really put a lot of effort into… clothing. But the way everybody treated Christine? I want that. Sometimes. Maybe.” Given that she’d said she was asexual, Nick figured that Judy was referring to the way Christine didn’t just attract attention, she _commanded_ it.

“Oh, whew.” Nick mimed wiping his brow. “I didn’t want to get into android body issues, or have to talk about your butt,” She punched him in the shoulder, which he counted as a win. “But fashion advice I can do. First of all, do _not_ change a _thing_ about your ship-part. That’s already the sexiest ride within lightyears.” He took a moment to picture that gorgeous piece of aerospace engineering, waiting till her ear twitched before continuing. “The drone, on the other hand…” and he gestured to Judy’s bipedal form, dressed in its simple shirt and pants (and his jacket). “The major thing you could change is clothes. Your colour sense looks fine, but you’re covering up too much.”

“Excuse me? Nick, I don’t want to look like… well, like a,” she whispered, “sex toy.” And why oh why was the android so _cute_ when she was embarrassed? It wasn’t fair! “Not that there’s anything wrong with that! Uhm… but I don’t think it’s what I should be going for?”

“You’ve got that right. You don’t want that kind of attention. But you can’t hide what you are. People are gonna judge you for it, so you’ve got to _own it_. I could wear gloves and a scarf everywhere, but where’s the fun in hiding? So instead of trying to dress like a normal person, dress like a badass android cop! Do things us fleshy types can’t. I’m thinking lights! Magnets! Flame decals!”

Judy was using her ears as eyebrows again, one raised in consternation. “Nick… I’m beginning to think your floral shirts are less a charming quirk of your character, and more a symptom of a much deeper and more debilitating _fashion disability_.”

“Hey!”

“I _am_ going to take your advice. But I’ll take it with a grain of salt the size of an elephant. C’mon, time to go ask around your contacts in the chop-shop business. But first,” she added, shrugging out of Nick’s jacket and handing it to him, “I am putting my uniform back on.”

When Nick put the jacket back on, it smelt a little weird. _Not bad, but… what is that?_ He sniffed, picking up a little plastic, a whiff of grease. _It smells like Judy._

He pretended his smile was sly rather than content.

 

***

 

 _Maybe Judy should have left her uniform on the ship_ , Nick thought when Spike pulled a taser on them. The porcupine was shaking, her quills rattling against each other, but she was standing firm, feet apart, and her chopshop (her livelihood, her world) was at her back. Nick had barely had a chance to open his mouth before he was diving in front of Judy, intercepting the shot.

Judy returned from cuffing the porcupine to one of the larger machines and pulled the taser charge from nick’s chest. The pain stopped and the dingy workshop popped back into existence around him. The cold concrete was hard, and he could feel bruises forming where he’d hit the ground.

Then Judy hauled him bodily upright, set him on his feet, and, just as his vision stopped swimming, slapped him.

“You idiot! What did you do that for? She was aiming at me!”

“Din’t… want you hurt,” Nick slurred out. He could feel his implant rebooting, bringing his AR interface back online, but his meat brain was still slow, and the sudden return of all his multi-coloured labels was just confusing.

She shook him. “What kind of macho bullshit is this? You’ve got a neural link! The electricity goes straight to your brain!”

“Know… I can take it. Have beforr.”

“And you think I haven’t? I. Am. A. Cop! They tase us as part of our training!”

“Hunh.” Later, Nick forever claimed that if he’d been in his right mind, he never would have said, “But you’re just a luxury model.”

That really set her off. She screamed in his face, punctuating each word with an extra shake, “This! Is! Not! My! Body! My brain is in the ship! This drone is practically disposable!”

Her ears flicked down, and she dropped him. Her voice came out very small. “But you… you aren’t.”

Nick managed to keep his balance, but only by leaning very heavily on the workbench behind him.

Judy stepped back, hands kneading together. “Dammit Nick, for four hundred eighty-seven milliseconds I thought I’d lost you.”

“Sorry, Carrots. Guess I wasn’t thinking.”

“It’s ok, just… don’t do it again, hey?” She bopped him lightly on the shoulder with a fist.

“Right. Next time I’ll jump _behind_ you.”

“Good.” She nodded decisively, “Now, important question: Do you want to press charges?”

“Press charges? Against Spike? No!” He looked over at where the porcupine was glaring at her feet, then trotted over to crouch next to her. “Listen, Spike, buddy, you know me. I’m not gonna rat on one of my best buyers. The officer here isn’t going to shut down your shop, we’ve got much bigger fish to fry. If we uncuff you, can you answer some questions for us?”


	5. A Helping Hand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited to add four words. Hope I don't make a habit of that xD

“...and that's all I know,” the Cheetah-shaped android finished, shrugging apologetically.

Judy deactivated her screen and thanked the prostheticist, “We appreciate you answering our questions, Mrs Lightningclaw. We'll get out of your fur now.”

When they'd started, Lightningclaw had said, “I hope you don’t mind if I keep working, it makes talking easier.” Now, Nick watched her hands move quickly and surely back and forth, carefully taking pieces from where they were laid out in order on a mat, cleaned and polished, and fitting them into the slowly growing hand. Nick was guessing it was for a rhino – big, only two fingers.

As the two of them turned to leave, she spoke again, still not looking up from her work. “It was my pleasure, Officer Hopps. You're a big inspiration to lots of us, you know. My family’s talked about basically nothing else since we saw your graduation on the news.”

Judy ducked her head, “Thanks, Ma'am, but I'm just doing what I love.”

“Thanks for your help, LC,” Nick added his own farewell, “I’ll see you as usual in a week or so.” They escaped with the minimum of further praise and embarrassment.

But Nick had more ammunition now. As they stepped out into the dry air of Savannah, he pitched his voice high, “Oh, Officer Hopps, you’re such an _inspiration_.”

Her ears flicked back. “Knock it off, Wilde.”

He danced ahead of her, skipping around a public drinking fountain and throwing imaginary flowers in her path. “Make way for the fantastic Judy Hopps! Saviour of the small! Hero to androids! Make way for the hoppity coppity, whose gaze is as keen as a hawk's! Whose mind is as sharp as- Ow! As sharp as her elbows, frell,” he finished, rubbing his ribs.

“Nick!” She whined, tugging on her ears, “Stop it! It’s embarrassing!”

“Can you honestly tell me you don’t enjoy the attention? Not even a little bit? Having someone recognise your,” he crooned the word, “ _magnificence_? Sounds like you’re a little bit famous, Carrots. A lot of people would milk that for all it’s worth. I know I would!” He grinned.

Judy threw her arms up in the air. “I never wanted the fame! I just want to help people!”

Nick's ears dropped. “You think the fame doesn’t help people?”

“People falling all over themselves to tell me how great I am? _How_ can that be positive?”

“People need someone to look up to, Carrots. Someone to give them hope. Half the cons in the book only work because the mark's desperate for hope.” He furrowed his brow, trying to find the words. _How does she not see it?_ “How do I explain this… When you were a kid, did you ever have a hero?”

Her head tilted, “What do you mean?”

“Somebody, real or fictional, that made you feel like you mattered, or like you could do anything?” When Judy didn't volunteer one, he continued, “Mine was Robin Hood. An old fox folk hero, he took what foxes were seen as – tricksters, thieves – and made it something good.”

There was silence for a moment.

“Jack Savage,” Judy said, and then explained to Nick’s raised eyebrow: “The bunny spy in those old movies? I used to watch them online whenever I was parked somewhere overnight. In every movie he was up against rhinos, tigers, polar bears… and he beat them by being quicker and smarter. He was always super well dressed, and calm, and kind. It was… nice, to pretend I could be this hypercompetent day-saving badass, when in real life I was just a chauffeur, ship, and waitress.”

“Ok, good, so, imagine this Jack guy, and everything he was to you, and now imagine what it would have been like if he was an AI.”

Judy stopped walking, ears stiff in shock. “Holy…”

“Yeah, right? Woulda been insanely inspirational.” He nudged her, but she didn’t start walking again, just staring up at him as he continued, “That’s how LC’s family see you. You're a trailblazer, going out and taking what you want, showing that AIs can do anything the rest of us can. You know I actually first heard about you from her? Granted I basically forgot until you came sniffing around Finnick’s van, but at the time she just wouldn’t shut up about this one AI that warmed her metaphorical heart… In some way, you’re already Jack Savage. You’re doing for them what he did for you.”

His eyes flew wide when she ducked under his arms to hug him. “Thanks, Nick. You’re a true friend.”

At a loss for what to say, Nick just let his hands rest lightly on her shoulders. It felt… weird, being hugged by metal arms. There was no give at all, her casing hard and unyielding. And yet she was so gentle.

It was very different to Finnick’s headlocks.

 “Oh hey,” Judy said as she stepped away, “Case files have been updated. There’s a signed statement from a civilian expert on prostheses, one Doctor Badger.”

“Oh, I know her! That’s Honey. What’d she say?”

“That prostheses are really hard to hack. Something about… ‘bio-regulated encryption protocols’?”

“Or in non-jargon,” Nick translated as they walked toward where the ship was parked, “the codes they use change based on what your body’s doing, _specifically_ to make hacking them nigh-impossible.”

 

***

 

In the cockpit, they stared at a map of the cluster, liberally sprinkled with dots and labels. Judy hadn’t docked the drone, leaving it standing shoulder-to-elbow with Nick, within reach of the screen. “I’ve got data from the other officers on the case, too,” she explained, “This is recent disappearances of mammals with significant prostheses, with attacks on witnesses in red. But there’s clearly no spatial relationship between the sightings.”

“Got that right,” Nick agreed, pointing, “they’re all over the cluster, in alleyways, parking lots, fields, shops… is that a Calvinball stadium? I didn’t think anyone still played that.”

“Back on task-”

“I guess they _do_ change the rules fairly often, must keep things fresh.”

“ _Back_ _on task_ ,” Judy insisted, “there _is_ a behavioural pattern. They all get taken over, attack nearby witnesses, then disappear before authorities arrive.”

“If they have the same MO, that fits with the VR theory.”

“Thing is, Otterton’s disappearance doesn’t fit. It can’t be unrelated, but nowhere else has anyone disappeared during the attacks, other than the attacker.”

“It wasn’t even the only attack on a spaceship, though the other two were bigger ships. Makes you wonder if they can do a delayed-activation thing, or what the range can be between the victim and the VR rig.”

“Wait, Nick, back up. The theory is that someone’s taking control of people with lots of prostheses,” Judy spoke slowly, leading him through her thought process, “and immediately forcing them to attack people, a violent use of limbs that weren’t designed for such, and in one such case a midmarket prostheticist goes missing. Why?”

Nick perked up, catching on, “They need someone to maintain the attackers!” His face fell. “Uh oh. Maintenance means these aren’t one-and-done deals. They’re building an army.”

“Yeah, that _is_ a worry.”

“Hang on, a VR rig couldn’t control more than one, not effectively.”

“Yeah, we’re missing something from the big picture.” Judy shook her head. “Doesn’t matter. Our job is to find Otterton. And if they want him to work for them, he’s going to need a workshop.” Nick watched as machineshop suppliers’ recent sales popped up on screen, along with reports of relevant equipment being stolen. “Damn, there’s too many. If I eliminate the entries that happened before he was abducted…” Most of the options disappeared, but there were still an intimidating number.

“I can narrow it down too, Carrots. Here, I’ll give you Otterton’s favourite brands.” Judy activated a key-screen and Nick typed in what he knew.

“Got it! Someone bought pretty much a whole workshop, all at once.” Judy highlighted the entry and started tossing up pictures of the purchased items.

“Carrots, I know that name… U. V. Diggerson,” Nick pointed at the screen, “That’s the wombat. The one Christine warned us about.”

“You said he had a lot of prostheses.”

Crossing his arms, Nick stared at the name on the screen. “Yeah. Guess they got him. I… dunno how to feel about that.”

She put a hand on his elbow. “He was a person, Nick. It’s sad he’s dead, no matter how nasty a guy he was.”

 

***

 

“Here we are. This is where the machinery was delivered.” Nick whispered, peering around a corner at the warehouse.

They were on the third planet in the Canals system, in a fairly typical city. The warehouse stood in the centre of a large block, a dangerously tilting sign above the gate proclaiming it the home of “Migration Movers and Shakers”. Nearby, they could hear the thunder of water rushing along the bottom of a large canal, an offshoot of one of the enormous watercourses which carried water down from the meltwater plants around the polar caps. According to Nick’s map (and the notes left online by anonymous smugglers), the warehouse lot backed onto the canal, which was big enough to fly a large shuttle down, if you were careful.

The warehouse itself seemed long abandoned, with broken windows, sagging sections of roof, and that one species of vine that Finnick always claimed was an escaped experiment, citing its ability to grow on anything and slowly take it apart. The space around it, once perhaps a parking lot for shuttles, now was choked with weeds growing up through cracks in the concrete, hiding the edges of the leaning fences and occasional piles of rubble.

“And we think they didn’t use a false address because?” Judy asked in a whisper.

“No reason to fake anything.” Nick explained, “They used a real name, and this part of the operation is legal.”

“Except for the kidnapping.”

“Except for the kidnapping,” he acknowledged with a nod.

It didn’t take them long to establish that there were guards. In the daylight Nick’s eyes weren’t helpful, but Judy was sure they were walking-prostheses-corpses, so he guessed she had some zoom capability in her optics.

“Crystal’s info was right about the red.” Judy said, looking over the guards standing motionless at the buildings corners and doors, “There’s more lights, some splashes of paint. One of them looks like he dunked himself in a vat of jam.”

“What do we even call them?” Nick mused aloud, “They’re like cyber-zombies. Red cyber zombies. Rybies? Cybredzies?”

Judy gave him a look. Well, she looked at him, and raised her earbrows.

“What? It doesn’t portmanteau well.” Nick turned back toward the warehouse, “Guess we just have to call them ‘Reds’. Boring.”

“Time to call for backup.” Judy pulled out her comm, but Nick put a hand over it, stopping her.

“Wait, Carrots. The Reds always seem to disappear before police arrive. Maybe they have a mole in the ZPD.” Judy started to say something, but Nick barrelled on, “Or if they can hack prostheses’ encryption, they can probably hack the ZPD comms.” She looked down at her comm, thinking.

They went in alone.

 

***

 

As they crossed the yard, ducking from cover to cover, Nick quickly became very glad that the patrolling Reds by necessity made a lot of noise. Metal feet rang on concrete, and Judy could pinpoint them with such accuracy that she barely slowed down as the she led Nick weaving through the patrols.

Just as they reached the doorway, Nick tapped Judy’s shoulder and pointed out the wombat, Diggerson, where he was walking the courtyard, seemingly checking on the Red patrols’ positions.

Nick tugged one of Judy’s ears to his mouth, whispered as quietly as he could, “He’s not red.”

Judy just held a finger to her mouth, and they crept on.

They only noticed the workshop doorway, hidden as it was behind a section of fallen roof, because Otterton had dropped the hand he’d bought from Nick outside it. Nick picked it up and fiddled with it while Judy poked her head around the corner.

“He's here!” she whispered, rushing in. Nick followed, looking carefully around the well-lit room. Power cables snaked across the floor, leading to the brand new machinery that they'd tracked there. On the bench in the middle of the room, Judy was bent over Emmet Otterton where he lay on a makeshift bed.

“Mr. Otterton? I’m Judy Hopps, ZPD. We’re here to get you out.”

Emmit Otterton was not looking well. As he sat up stiffly, blinking, Nick noted a black eye, plenty of bruises, and a cuff on his ankle with a chain welded to the table. While Judy assessed Emmit’s injuries and quietly outlined their plan of escape, Nick shuffled carefully through the workbenches around the room until he found some tiny wire cutters. Presumably the otter hadn’t had the upper body strength to cut his chain, but Nick’s prosthetic hand made short work of it. _The benefits of barely-legal modding continue to stack up._

Otterton was tiny. Well, merely short for an otter, but he still fit neatly in Nick’s right arm. His breath wheezed in Nick’s ear, but his grip on the denim jacket was strong. As they made ready to leave, Emmit tugged Nick’s ear. “Grab the one I was working on,” he whispered, pointing to one of the worktables. “I’ve locked the joints, it can’t move.”

Walking over, Nick found a rat corpse with three prosthetic limbs. The fourth had been removed, along with the head.

Averting his eyes, Nick scooped it up and dropped it in Emmit’s lap, then wiped his hand on his pants. He turned to the door, where Judy was already creeping out.

 

***

 

On the way out, there were too many Red patrols near the warehouse’s front door, so they left by the back. They made it to the fenceline before they were spotted, but the Reds were obviously networked, and brought some in from the boundary to cut off their escape. The ring of unspeaking figures closed quickly, forcing them onto a weathered bridge that _almost_ spanned the canal at the building’s rear. As they jogged down it, Nick thankful that the handrails were still attached, they spotted the section where the bridge had crumbled just in time to come to a skidding stop.

The deep rumble of frothing water filled the air, and Nick’s ears were tugged by the wind whistling down the channel, nothing to stop it for miles. He took a moment to glance down over the handrail, on the off-chance there was an escape route there. There wasn’t. The only way across was, well… across.

Judy had obviously come to the same conclusion, as she sped down and leapt the gap easily, then turned back and gestured. “Throw them, Nick!”

Nick eyed the distance, which seemed a lot bigger without Judy effortlessly crossing it, but did as he was told, hurling first Otterton, then the Red rat across the gap. Judy caught them safely, if a little awkwardly, and then it was Nick’s turn.

He backed up a few steps, conscious of the Reds fast approaching, then ran.

Jumped.

When he slammed into the opposite side the breath was knocked out of him, and he slid down, legs dangling, until the scrabbling claws of his left hand found purchase and clamped down. His fall stopped with a jerk, his elbow and shoulder complained, but his grip held. _So glad I upgraded the strength on this thing._ Heaving a gasp into his lungs, he looked back across the gap as yet more adrenaline rushed into him, slowing his perceptions and _finally_ activating the n-link’s fight-or-flight mode. _Well that’s nice_ , Nick grumbled to himself, _would have been handy while we were running._ _Gotta get this glitchy damn thing looked at._

 _If I survive._ The approaching Reds where haloed in orange, telling him they were slowing down. _They’ve only got one eye each, maybe they can’t judge the dist-_

There was a flashing red-and-yellow halo around the wombat.

His hand was in his coat, grabbing something the AR’s object recognition had already identified. He was pulling out a gun.

Nick looked up at Judy, her arms full of otter. “Gun!” he said.

Judy looked up at the wombat, back down at Nick. Out of the corner of his eye, Nick saw a little red laser-point appear on the jagged bridge edge and start wandering towards him.

Nick heaved, but barely got his chin above his knuckles before his arms gave out.

Below him, the rumble of the water seemed to grow louder.

Judy stomped on his prosthetic hand, breaking his grip. His other hand, left to hold the entirety of his weight, was just not up to the task.

Nick fell.

And landed on the top of the _Judith Laverne_ , his back aching and head ringing. _Still, better than being shot in the head_ , he thought, rolling over and clinging to the lop-vex he’d landed on. Judy landed with a clank, passengers secure in her arms, and guided Nick toward the dorsal hatch as she carried them down the channel and away from the warehouse.

Nick didn’t even notice the graze the bullet had left on his shoulder until Judy finished doing her best for Otterton and turned to Nick with the first-aid kit.


	6. Seeing Eye to Eye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one ended up long, so I moved one scene to the end of the previous chapter. It fits better there anyway. Go check it out!

The _Judith Laverne_ dropped them right in front of the Precinct 1 police station, in all its blue, steel and glass glory. Busy traffic hummed around it, and the skyscrapers of Central, the biggest city on the most populous planet of the Savannah system, stood tall and clean in the fading daylight.

A grey wolf met them at the door. “Mr. Otterton? I’m Officer Wolford. If you’ll come with me, I’ll take a look at your injuries. Officer Hopps will join us in a few minutes.”

Emmit, wearing much of the _Judith Laverne_ ’s first aid kit but moving under his own power now, turned and smiled at Nick and Judy before following Wolford away.

Judy was immediately off, first to talk to the receptionist, a pudgy and jovial cheetah by the name of Clawhouser, about the proper process for filing case reports. Then she motioned Nick to follow her, saying she was going to ‘hit the cube farm’, whatever that meant.

A moment later, Chief Bogo’s voice rang out across the lobby: “Hopps! Your report. My desk. Make it happen!”

Judy called up to the balcony where the chief was glaring down at them, “I’m writing as we speak, sir.” Bogo looked briefly puzzled before his scowl returned and he disappeared back behind the railing.

“Your eyes are flashing with your words again,” Nick observed quietly to Judy as they walked, “They stopped while we were in the warehouse.”

“What? Yeah, I didn’t want to draw attention.”

“So the flashing eyes thing is conscious?” Nick imagined trying to remember blink with every syllable. _Maybe it gets easier with practice?_

“Broadly. The closest thing androids have to a subconscious are the subprocesses we can use to semiautomate things. I’m working on one for doing expressions with my ears, but for now I do that consciously.”

“And the flashing?”

“It’s a subprocess, I can turn it off when I need to. We pulse our eyelights to make following our conversation easier. It’s a visual cue that shows who’s speaking. Now shush, and keep up.”

In the cube farm, which turned out to be an open-plan office with desks insulated from each other by null-display screens, Judy was interrupted in her search for the sergeant she needed to report to by a rhino who put his foot down in front of them, blocking their way. “Oh, Officer McHorn!” Judy’s cheerful greeting sounded forced to Nick, “I was just looking for-”

McHorn interrupted her. “I’ll make this quick, Hopps. This case is bigger than you. You’re a rookie. You did good finding Otterton, but from here on you’re on this case for observation only. Sergeant Ramkin is the lead on this. Watch and learn, yeah?”

“Yessir.”

As he stomped away, McHorn muttered, “I don’t see why they made _me_ do the debugging.”

 _Debugging?_ Nick frowned, opened his mouth, “Hey, she-”

“Not now, Nick.” Judy hissed.

“But he-”

“Nick. Stop. Let it go.”

He did. The frown was stuck on his face though.

As they passed a giraffe officer swiping across a starmap on her screen, Nick asked, “So… we’ve been all over the cluster on this case, Carrots. Where exactly _is_ ‘Precinct 1’?”

“It’s a misnomer. Precinct 1 is actually the inter-precinct force. We take any cases that cross precinct lines, and as a result have to have the most diverse and adaptable officers in the ZPD.”

Nick blinked at her, then smirked. “Cute! You sound like a recruitment pamphlet.”

“Sorry, yeah, I was just reading you one. I’m a bit busy here, Nick.”

_What, no reaction to the c-word?_

He followed her silently until she’d done her errands.

 

***

 

The room that they found Wolford and Otterton in was nice. Almost cushy. Presumably it was for the witnesses the ZPD wanted to comfort, as opposed to the ones they wanted to intimidate. Granted, it was still a little intimidating with the muscled bulk of Chief Bogo in the room.

Officer Wolford was taking Emmit’s statement. Apparently, Diggerson, the wombat had tried to hire him at first, and only kidnapped him when he tried to go to Mr. Big. Emmit also mentioned that Diggerson talked to the Reds like they were all one person, calling him “Howler”.

Nick spoke up, “‘the owl is in him’… ‘the Howler’s in him’!”

Otterton looked at him like he was dense. Which, to be fair, he could be. “Yes,” the otter confirmed, “that’s what I told the limo pilot. In hindsight I might have picked more informative phrasing for what could have been my last words.”

“Hopps, what’s _he_ still doing here?” Nick looked over to see Chief Bogo pointing at him.

“Sir, Nick was instrumental in-”

“Hopps.”

“…Yes sir.” Judy turned to Nick, her ears relaxed, unreadable. “Mr. Wilde, we appreciate your assistance in finding Mr. Otterton, but we cannot allow a civilian into this sensitive investigation.”

She just… went with it. Where was the fire? Where was the stubbornness? _What happened to_ my _Judy?_ Nick looked back and forth between her eyes and ears, trying to find hint of… something. Anything. _That’s it? All that work, all the banter, and the feelings-sharing, and I get dropped like a sack of shit?_  He sagged as he turned to go.

“Nick,” Judy caught up to him at the door, and Nick let himself hope.

“This is yours.” She held out her novelty carrot pen.

 _Well that’s alright then,_ he thought bitterly, _as long as she’s not indebted to me_. He took the pen and gave her a lazy salute, backing out through the door.

As he walked back toward the lobby, keenly aware of the gazes of every uniformed mammal that he passed, his thoughts turned darker.

_I stood up to buffalo-butt for her. She couldn’t do the same for me?_

_Well, no. He’s her boss._

_She’s at work. She has to follow procedure._

_She could have texted me. Something._

_She’s in the middle of a case. She’s not paying complete undivided attention to me anymore._

_Was I reading too much into things? Was I just a ‘civilian expert’?_

_Was she just keeping me around out of… politeness?_

By the time he stepped out onto the footpath, he was almost growling.

_If she didn’t want me there, she only had to say!_

He stopped. Straightened.

 _She only had to say. But she didn’t say, so maybe_...

 

***

_This may be the most adult thing I’ve ever done,_ Nick thought bemusedly as he knocked on the _Judith Laverne_ ’s hatch. _Nick Wilde, going to talk with a friend instead of brooding over his wounded pride. Who’d have thought it?_

As the ramp came gently down, an answer occurred to him. _Probably she would have._ It put a spring in his step.

As he stepped inside, Judy spoke to him from the dashboard “Nick! I thought you’d gone home.”

 _There, see? She’s happy to see me._ “Please, you’re not getting rid of me that easy.”

“It’s good you stuck around. You should get just as much credit for finding Otterton as I do.”

“Oh, you think I’ll get a pat on the head too? Sweet!” His smile shrank. “They really didn’t seem to be falling over themselves to congratulate you, Carrots.”

“Yeah, well… they don’t know the details yet. And when they do…” she trailed off as Nick sat down in the cockpit. “I broke a lot of rules, Nick.”

“Got the job done, though.”

“Thanks, Nick. I appreciate that. I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me too.”

They sat in companionable silence for a while, letting Judy concentrate on her drone in the police station,

“You get TV in here? Put something on for me. Maybe one of those spy movies?”

“Hmmm… You know, I think I’ve got something better.”

The video that popped up on screen showed the back of a sheep in a blue uniform, trotting down some steps. In Nick’s unprofessional opinion the shakycam was a bit strong given the lack of action.

“What is this, a cop drama?”

She giggled. _Giggled!_ “Kinda? Listen.”

The sheep was talking. “-going over it in Forensics. Through here.”

Holding a door for whoever was holding the camera, they entered Forensics, which turned out to be not the cookie-cutter glowy-lights and beeping-machines lab of most cop shows, and instead was the same kind of clean, steel-and-plastic workspace Nick had seen in dozens of chopshops. Just with fewer mechanical body parts lying around, and more flesh ones. The light was better, too.

A greying raccoon in scrubs glanced over and said, “Ah, Seargeant Ramkin, good.”

“Evening, Max!” the sheep replied, “Hopps and I are here about the prosthetics case.”

“Yes, yes. Come this way.” The raccoon led the way toward one of the examination tables.

Nick frowned. “Carrots… This is from the drone, isn’t it? Can’t you get in trouble for that?”

“Technically? Yes. Procedure is to get written permission before transmitting any footage taken in the station elsewhere. Practically? There’s no way for them to know. Unless _you_ tell them. Are you gonna rat on me Nick?” Judy drew his name out, ending with a loud click.

“And implicate myself in corrupting an officer of the law?” Nick gave her his best innocent face, “Never.”

“You should pay attention, though, Doctor Maskwell is legendary in forensic pathology.”

Nick returned his attention to the feed from the drone. The racoon was still talking. “From Mr. Otterton’s testimony we understand that whatever is doing this, it only affects mammals with prostheses, and is only dangerous to others if they have enough of them that the prostheses alone are a functional body.”

“This victim was a male rat, middle-aged. Identification is hard without the head. Now, the interesting part is what we found in the prostheses.” The doctor outlined his findings, promising a full report when he finally made it to a computer.

“We’ve discovered nanomachines within the vic’s prostheses, including some that seem to have self-assembled into a ‘net transmitter.” Maskwell called up a screen in front of the body, scrolling through a series of microscope pictures of the nanobots in question. “I surmise that the nanomachines hijack the prostheses’ control signals just past the nerve-wire interface, but it shouldn’t be possible to break the encryption – the keys change constantly, based on biometric feedback.”

Nick chuckled to himself, “Sneaky bugger didn’t even mention Honey Badger told him all that.” Judy hummed in agreement.

“Leaving aside the encryption issue, the operation of the nanites is fairly straightforward…” the doctor continued talking, but Nick wasn’t listening. He stared at the screen, where microscope footage of the bots moving around was playing.

Three nanobots were very clearly cooperating to dig a hole through flesh to get to the metal beneath. Bits of tissue piled up around them as they worked, and once the hole was big enough, they lined up and shoved themselves inside.

Nick was distantly aware his hands were shaking.

He closed his eyes. _Breathe. In… and out._

Judy didn’t seem to have noticed his distress, no doubt concentrating on the important information. “I was gonna hang around a bit longer, Carrots, but I don’t think I can handle it.” Nick turned to the door before opening his eyes. “Keep me in the loop, yeah?”

“Oh! Ok? But um…” _Yep, I caught her off guard there._ “Before you go, Nick… I uh… need to talk to the chief, and I could use some moral support. Meet me inside? Please?”

“…Ok.”

 

***

 

As they walked to Bogo’s office, Nick finally remembered to turn his phone back on. There were a few new messages, and he glanced through them on his AR while bringing up Finnick’s number on his phone. Apart from the angry but vague texts from Finnick, he had two from Otterton:

 

 **EmmitOtterton:** I owe you one, Nick. I can put in a good word for you with Mr. Big by way of repayment, or something else. Let me know.

 **EmmitOtterton:** And thanks.

 

As the two of them sat (or in Nick’s case, sprawled) on the hard plastic chairs outside the chief’s office, Nick rang his partner in almost-crime.

Finnick picked up on the first ring, and Nick flattened his ears in preparation. “WILDE YOU MOTHERFUCKER!”

“Sorry about that buddy, was kinda life-or-death there for a bit. Hope it wasn’t urgent?”

“You stood me up, asshole! We had a drop, Nick.”

“Aw, crap,” Nick checked the date, “It was the MechiMedi one, wasn’t it? How’d it go? The two of them didn’t give you too much trouble, did they?”

“I handled it, but I hadta talk real fast. We damn lucky the little guy recognised me.”

“Glad to hear it went smoothly.”

“Yeah, well I had to load the boxes up without checking the tags. You gotta get down here asap so we can sort ‘em out and unload ‘em.”

“Fair enough. I’ve just got one thing to finish up here and I’ll be right over.”

“Damn right you will.”

“Sorry Fin. Thanks for covering for me.” He ended with his usual sing-song “Love you!”

“Shut it, Wilde. I’m out.”

Slipping his phone back into his pocket, Nick told Judy, “People assume because I do the talking Finnick’s just there for muscle, but we’re partners. We each own fifty percent of the company. He’s got a good head on his itsy bitsy shoulders.”

Bogo called Judy in, and Nick gave her a thumbs-up. “You got this, Carrots.”

She didn’t reply. Just walked in, ears down.

Nick pulled out his phone again and sat down to wait.

Quickly exhausting two of his three social media feeds, he glanced back up at the chief’s door, then looked around carefully. _No one here_.

In a flash, Nick was across the hall and had his ear pressed up against the door. It seemed Bogo was just finishing chewing Judy out over the rules she’d broken.

“…for which I’m suspending you. Two weeks, unpaid.”

There was a pause, then: “That’s it?”

“Do you _want_ it to be more, Hopps? I thought you’d love to be back sooner.”

“I would, sir, it’s just… I’m not sure I’m safe. To be around, I mean. I don’t… I don’t think I can… do this job. I need to…” Nick heard her take a deep breath, “I wish to tender my resignation, sir.”

_WHAT? Is that why she’s been so down since we got here?_

Bogo’s voice, already grumpy, was edging toward outright anger. “You’re resigning? Why?”

“I’m not cut out to be a cop sir. I’m too impulsive, too stubborn.”

“Everyone makes mistakes, Hopps-”

“I almost got a civilian killed!”

“You think I haven’t?” Bogo was quiet. Gentle. “You’ve been here three days, Hopps. _No-one_ can tell if you’re cut out for policework yet. And your three days have been some of the craziest I’ve seen on the force. No, you’re not resigning. Take the two week suspension, get a little bored, come back and do some _real_ policing. Then we’ll see. I’m not going to accept your resignation unless you do something worse than going a little cowboy on me.”

“I… Ok.”

“Dismissed.”

There was a soft thud as Judy hopped down from the chair. Nick almost stood up and stepped back from the door, but Bogo wasn’t finished. “And Hopps, remember: You probably saved a life today. Send Mr. Wilde in, if you would.”

Nick scrambled away from the door and flopped onto his chair, dragging his trademark smirk onto his face.

Judy’s ears were unreadable. “Chief wants to talk to you.” She jerked her head at the door, then stopped in parade rest, immobile.

Nick couldn’t think of anything to say to her, so he just walked in, glancing back at the motionless drone.

Chief Bogo didn’t waste any time with pleasantries. “First, I want to emphasize to you how lucky you are that no-one involved wants to press charges, Mr. Wilde. Assisting an officer is not a get-out-of-jail free card. The next time you get the inclination to break into private property, extort business owners with threats of police investigation, or mount a two-person infiltration and rescue,” the buffalo’s eyes narrowed to a glare, “ _don’t_.”

Nick tried to look ashamed. Tried to pretend he wouldn’t do it all again in a heartbeat if Judy asked.

The chief’s face softened. “With that out of the way I want to ask you something more personal. Strictly off the record, what’s your impression of Officer Hopps?”

Nick blinked. “All due respect, sir, I don’t know you. I don’t know if you’re just curious, or fishing for a reason to fire her.” Not his real concern, given the conversation he’d overheard, but he figured it made a good excuse. “I’m gonna have to go ‘no comment’ on this one.”

“Hmf. True enough. Let’s see if I can convince you.” The buffalo stood up and turned around, looking out his window. His eyes roamed the skyline, looking but not seeing. When he spoke, it was quietly. “I am in a difficult position, Mr. Wilde. I have been assigned a brand new recruit for the first time in more than a decade. Usually recruits get a year or two of experience in one of the outer systems before they’re assigned to Central. I was… I _am_ woefully out of practice at guiding inexperienced recruits. I am not used to dealing with the wide-eyed idealists and the gung-ho cowboy cops. Now I have both, in one person, while the whole cluster watches to see what happens! And I handled her rookie mistakes very… very poorly. I let my temper get the better of me. I made some very serious errors of judgement. I dismissed Hopps as a dumb robot. I was grumpy with the mammal inclusion initiative precisely for doing its job: getting worthy mammals hired despite bigots like me.” He paused, took a breath, then said, “I’m glad the two of you proved me wrong.”

Bogo turned back around, leaned heavily on his desk. “She could make a good cop, she has the potential. But she’s under a lot of pressure. Closing the Otterton case will help with that, but she’ll still need help. What kind of help, I don’t know. I can’t ask her, she doesn’t trust me. I… haven’t earned that yet.” The next sentence was barely a mutter, “Doesn’t help that I can’t read her face.”

“Anyway, that’s where you come in. In Hopps’ report,” and he gestured to the privacy-blurred screen at his desk, “she speaks highly of you, and reading between the lines I can tell the two of you get along. Which tells me you know her much better than I do. Anything you can tell me now might help me treat her better, set her up for success. So, please, off the record: What’s your impression of Officer Hopps?”

Nick, silent still, chewed the chief’s words for a full minute, tip of his tail twitching. Then he told Bogo how he saw Judy: young, stubborn, honest, a little rebellious. Straightforward almost to the point of tunnel-vision. But caring, and kind, and so, so determined to do good.

When he finished, the chief sat down and put his fingers together. “Hmm. The best way I can think of to balance all that would be assigning her the right partner. She’ll need someone experienced, not necessarily with law enforcement but definitely… definitely older. A little lazy, too, to encourage her to take a break from time to time, to show her the path of least resistance. Ideally they’d be as good with people as she is with evidence.”

 _I’m impressed_ , Nick thought. “You actually have cops like that?”

“No.” _Less impressed now._ “Not yet.” And Chief Bogo fixed him with a stare and a sly smile that implied _something_ , but for the life of him Nick couldn’t figure out what.

At least, he couldn’t until, a week later, the Zootopia Police Academy application forms arrived in his mailbox.

Which was fortunate, because the events of that week drove the conversation with the chief clear out of Nick’s memory.


	7. Break a Leg

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, the next chapter grew beyond control, so I cut it in half.

**JudyHoppsZPD:** Niiiick! I’m boooored.

 **JudyHoppsZPD:** Entertain me...

 

 **NickWilde:** Finn and I are making a delivery, but I’ve got time to chat.

 **NickWilde:** Can’t have a bored AI sitting around, that’s how the apocalypse starts.

 

 **JudyHoppsZPD:** Hee. Maybe if my sister _Subvert Subsume Sedite_ ever got bored, but she’s got hobbies.

 **JudyHoppsZPD:** Sooooo many hobbies.

 **JudyHoppsZPD:** I don’t have hobbies.

 **JudyHoppsZPD:** Hobbies.

 **JudyHoppsZPD:** I wonder where that word came from?

 **JudyHoppsZPD:** _Precision at the Expense of Brevity_ says it comes from an old word for a toy horse. Weird. :/

 **JudyHoppsZPD:** Tell Finnick I said hi!

 **JudyHoppsZPD:** Nick?

 

 **NickWilde:** Was doing handover, sorry.

 **NickWIlde:** Finnick says, and I quote, “Tell the bunnybot to pop the question already, some of us have things to do this year.”

 **NickWilde:** More cryptic than his usual cussing. Make any sense to you?

 

 **JudyHoppsZPD:** Nope.

 

 **NickWilde:** Now he’s calling us dense.

 **NickWilde:** Which is uncalled for.

 **NickWilde:** It’s perfectly natural for androids to be less than buoyant.

 **NickWilde:** He’s not exactly swim-team material himself.

 

 **JudyHoppsZPD:** Hee!

 **JudyHoppsZPD:** Hey, thanks for taking me out last night, I had fun. :)

 

 **NickWilde:** My pleasure, Carrots! Fly-in movies are a dying classic that must be appreciated before they all close down.

 

 **JudyHoppsZPD:** It was weird seeing Diggerson’s face again on the PSA there. I guess they’re really going all out on the public information front.

 **JudyHoppsZPD:** Has it affected you and Finnick much? Clawhouser’s been worried about the protests at the precinct.

 

 **NickWilde:** We keep out of the way.

 **NickWilde** : Our clients are nervous, though. As long as the ZPD don’t say how the Reds happen, people are just going to get more scared.

 **NickWilde:** And the chopshops are slowly turning into bunkers. I see new locks and security at every one I visit.

 

 **JudyHoppsZPD:** Damn. :(

 **JudyHoppsZPD:** I wish I could do something to help.

 **JudyHoppsZPD:** I wish I could do anything!

 **JudyHoppsZPD:** I’m seriously going stir crazy here.

 

 **NickWilde:** You should check out Wild Times, that amusement park on Canals IV.

 

 **JudyHoppsZPD:** That looks like so much fun! :D

 **JudyHoppsZPD:** But… I don’t think I can go. :(

 **JudyHoppsZPD:** Money’s going to be tight, without my pay. I’ve gotta avoid expensive distractions.

 **JudyHoppsZPD:** I’m already going to have to give up my parking space for the duration.

 

 **NickWilde:** How much does that even save? I know space’s at a premium downtown but it’s not that bad right?

 

 **JudyHoppsZPD:** It’s less the space and more the security.

 **JudyHoppsZPD:** My current parking space is in an inner-city hangar with individual garages. For anything cheaper it’ll just be a paint outline separating me from the next ship.

 **JudyHoppsZPD:** I don’t sleep but I don’t want to have to watch my back all night.

 

 **NickWilde:** That sucks, carrots.

 **NickWilde:** You shouldn’t have to give up your peace of mind for this.

 **NickWilde:** I’ve got money. How much do you need?

 

 **JudyHoppsZPD:** I can’t take your charity, Nick.

 **JudyHoppsZPD:** But I could use a loan. I’ll pay you back once my suspension’s done?

 

 **NickWilde:** Sure. I’ll even spare you the loanshark routine!

 **NickWilde:** No, wait.

 **NickWilde:** I have a better idea.

 **NickWilde:** How about you come work for me, and I pay you. There's an upscale clinic on Savannah III who recycle their used prostheses, and I've wanted to pay them a visit for a while.

 **NickWilde:** I just didn't have all the necessary props.

 

***

 

They planned the con out over the next few days, and met up the day beforehand to prepare the _Judith Laverne_. Which meant washing and waxing. Nick took a deep breath as he walked toward the smooth curves of the ship where she was parked on a grassy hill. The weather in the city was lovely: Clear and sunny, the sky empty of clouds, with just the barest hint of a breeze to keep it comfortably cool.

_Ok, Nick. Be professional. You’re helping a friend. Just… don’t let her see that she gets to you. Yeah._

Of course, that was easily said. Harder to do when he and the drone, dressed in baggy maintenance overalls, were kneeling on top of those glorious curves with buckets and sponges.

He endured Judy’s teasing about finally getting his hands on her engines.

He ignored, with great aplomb, her caution not to get too much drool mixed in with the water.

He even managed to concentrate on getting her clean rather than watching the way the suds slid slowly down her sides. Not that he didn’t think about it, just that he did his best to keep his hard-on from growing past ‘uncomfortable’ and into ‘obvious’ territory.

But he wasn’t prepared for the real test. He was, it turned out, completely and totally _un_ prepared.

“Alright, that’s it for washing.” Judy relieved Nick of his sponge and bucket, handing him a hose. “You get started on rinsing and I’ll get the wax. You want a drink?” she added as she jumped down the side, stopping to look back at him.

“That would be fantastic.” Nick wiped his brow with his right arm and shook out his flesh hand, trying to loosen his scrubbing muscles. He considered turning the hose on himself, but decided that the cool wouldn’t be worth enduring wet fur for the rest of the day. He was already going to need to dry his arms and legs.

Nick busied himself rinsing the suds off, admiring the shine of the sun on Judy’s wings, the distorted reflections in her curves. He walked aft to reach the next section, tracing a hand over one of the thrusters as he passed it. He adjusted his pants to relieve a little discomfort.

A minute later, he heard the drone’s footsteps tap back down the ramp, and she called up to him, “See something you like?” reminding him that she had cameras all over her hull. His ears went flat, his eyes wide. She’d been watching him.

He forced a smirk and opened his mouth to counter, but one look at the drone struck him wordless. Judy was dressed in _very_ short jean shorts, which ended in tattered fluff on the pronounced curves of her upper thighs. She’d left her pink flannel shirt unbuttoned, but tied in a knot just over her navel, exposing both a tantalising hint of her chest and a broad expanse of steel-hard abdomen.

Nick’s jaw dropped so fast it took the rest of him with it. One foot slipped out from under him, he hit the hull face-first and slid straight off the edge to land on his back in the grass.

A shadow fell over him and he blinked up at the drone, finally noticing the tall glass of lemonade she was holding.

“I wonder if you can help me, young lady,” he asked, “there was a police officer here assisting me, but she seems to have disappeared.”

“Ah reckon ah can,” Judy replied, in the worst attempt at a country-bunny accent Nick had heard in a long time, “but ah cud use some help mahself. How ‘bout I scratch your back,” she cocked a hip and laid her free hand on her side, drawing Nick’s eyes inevitably to the waist of her very short shorts. As if that wasn’t enough, she also dropped her voice to what Nick assumed was her impression of sultry, “you scratch mine?”

Nick burst out laughing.

In moments, Judy was stiff-eared and thumping her foot, which only made it _funnier_.

He gasped and giggled until she’d finally had enough. “If you’ve quite finished, Nick?”

“Aheh… wooo…” Nick rubbed his paws on his aching cheeks. “You’re gonna want a lot more practice at that, Carrots.”

“I think I did pretty well for my first try!”

“Where did you get your source material? That was so,” he suppressed a giggle, “ _so_ bad. I look forward to witnessing more of your attempts at seduction,” he added as Judy helped him to his feet.

Judy handed him the lemonade, leaving both hands free to rest on his shoulders, and Nick was suddenly nervous. _What is she-_

“In that case, there’s something you can help me with. After we wax me,” Judy stood up on tiptoe to whisper in Nick’s ear, her cheek just brushing the fur of his, “The drone needs washing too.”

An hour later, in the shower, she finally got him to admit that he didn’t have a thing for bunnies. That he had a thing for machines.

 

***

 

They landed the _Judith Laverne_ like a gleaming silver arrowhead on the footpath right outside the prosthetic clinic's door, with as much disregard for traffic as Judy could conscience. “Think rich, Carrots.” Nick had encouraged her as they swooped down, “Think, 'my time is worth too much to park more than five meters away’.”

“As you say, Mr. Wilde.” Judy was practicing her bored voice. It wasn’t hard to land close to the store, as pedestrians seemed to be giving the place a wide berth. _Worried about all those potential Reds, no doubt_ , Nick thought privately.

Nick adjusted the collar of his pressed white shirt and the two of them trotted out, decked out in more props – business clothing just nice enough to say 'I care about how expensive this looks' but not enough for 'I don't care how expensive it _is_ '. Nick didn't turn to look at Judy as she followed at his shoulder, but only because he'd got all his ogling done on the ship.

Her skirt hugged her hips deliciously, and the short jacket drew the eye straight to them. A _very_ low neckline exposed a long strip of her chest, freshly polished and gleaming. When she twisted, he could clearly see the interlocking metal plates that made her skin slide past each other to accommodate the movement.

They hit the shopfront like a timed explosive, like a warhead primed for _elegance_.

Just inside the door, Nick took off his sunglasses, stowed them in his breast pocket, and paused (posed) while glancing over the spotless displays. It wasn’t busy – few mammals could afford designer prostheses, and those who could would be opting for newflesh instead, given current events. But there were still a few customers wandering around, each accompanied by an employee. A bear was carefully carrying a lemming in one paw, gesturing at the display and reassuring him that no feature was left out of the small-scale models.

The gleaming glass cases, holding slowly rotating limbs plated in silver or inlaid with gold, sent their reflections back at them. _We look so damn good._

Locating the service desk, Nick perked his ears and strode forward, easily grabbing the attention of the lioness stationed there. Judy’s feet clicked on the faux marble floor as she followed him. All around, a hush fell as customer and retailer alike turned to gawk.

_This is how we walk the walk._

“Hello, sir. How can I help you today?” the lioness asked as Nick reached her.

“Hey,” he glanced at her name badge, “Lilly, can you get the boss for me? I've got a business proposition for him.”

“I’m sorry sir, but our business staff are very busy. You’ll need to call and make an appointment.”

Nick glanced around, decided they’d drawn plenty of attention, and snapped his fingers. “Right! Appointment. Judith, we did that yeah?”

Judy played her part beautifully, pulling up her screen for a moment to pointlessly but _visibly_ check her calendar.  Nick noted idly that while her voice was bored, her ears were definitely set to ‘amused’. She confirmed, “We did, Mr. Wilde. Appointment with Mr. Circes for ten thirty.”

It had taken very little research to find the clinic’s owner, now their mark, online. The lemming made enormous profits by a simple but effective strategy: top-end prostheses, excellent advertising, and a strict no-reuse policy that ensured that demand far outstripped supply. Months ago Nick had overheard a young but very obviously rich capybara complaining about the price of his mother’s fashionable new leg, and a quick calculation had Nick concluding that either the leg was made of solid mother-of-pearl, or someone was making a fortune. Mr. Vico Circes was that someone.

Nick and Judy were shown into a glass-walled office with a pleasant if limited view, and Nick shook the hand of the lemming at the desk-on-the-desk there. “Nicholas Wilde,” he introduced himself, “And you’re Mr. Circes.”

“Please, call me Vico. What have you got for me Nick?”

Nick launched into his spiel, describing how their company had a “proprietary process” for “rendering prosthetic-grade materials of all kinds suitable for reuse”. He’d got probably two thirds of the way through before the lemming stopped him.

“We already have a recycling contractor, Nick. I’m sure you understand that we can’t change contracts on a whim.”

“Of course, of course,” Nick said, despite fully intending to convince the clinic owner to do exactly that, “but I think you’ll find that our process gives us an economic advantage that we can pass on in part to you...” he rambled on in that vein until he was interrupted by his phone, ringing in Judy's pocket.

Judy stepped out with a murmured, “excuse me,” closing the glass office door behind her. Nick’s eyes followed her for a moment too long as she left.

 _Well Nicky old boy, it is a good thing you are playing a rich asshole right now, because you just checked out your PA’s ass._ He turned back to find Vico giving him a dubious look. _And the mark saw you. Good job._ He cranked up his smile and waited while Judy played her part behind him.

Judy answered the phone, and Nick and Vico clearly heard Finnick screaming bloody murder from the other end of the line. Judy leaned back into the room and said, voice still subdued, “Mr. Wilde? Mr. Xerda would like to speak to you at your earliest convenience.” More screaming from Finnick prompted her to add, “He is somewhat agitated.”

Nick excused himself and took the phone, striking up a meaningless conversation with Finnick. The two of them could talk for hours about nothing at all while concentrating on something else, and in this case they were listening in on Judy’s conversation with Vico, relayed through the phone in her head.

“Is he looking away?” Judy asked Vico. Nick glanced at the lemming through the glass wall, and then turned to lean casually against it, back to the room.

“Uh… yes,” he heard Vico say hesitantly.

“Oh, _good_ ,” Judy exhaled, and there was a thunk as she dropped her head to the desk. “I don’t think I can take much more of his waffling,” she explained, with more emotion than she’d shown since they’d arrived, “that fox must be the most insufferable asshole ever to shed red fur on good upholstry.”

“Um...”

“I mean I could handle the vanity, and the smarm, and even the blatant ass kissing, but he treats me like a piece of furniture, and the moment I express any emotion at all he looks at me like I’ve grown an extra head. It’s only getting worse, with the amount of pressure Mr. Xerda’s putting him under to find more clients.”

Vico, who it seemed _could_ spot an opportunity if it danced naked in front of him, asked, “So he really needs this contract then?”

“Hah. You could talk him down to half what he asks and he'd still take the deal. He's climbing the corporate ladder, gotta maintain his KPIs.”

There was silence for a moment, and Nick was about to turn around when Judy went off-script.

“Could you do me a favor, Vico?” she asked, sounding like the damsel from an old noir vid, “Take him for all he’s worth. I want to see that fox _writhe_.”

And that was definitely his cue. Nick came back in and Vico began negotiating in earnest. A couple minutes later, Nick almost had him, could see by the twitch of his ears he was on the brink of agreeing, but Nick didn’t think he could lower his offer, not without rousing suspicion. He could feel the con fraying under him, threatening to unravel.

Judy came to his rescue. “Mr. Wilde, you have a meeting on Rodentia II at noon, we need to leave now to make it in time.” Which gave nick the opening to openly show worry.

The mark took the opportunity to make a reduced offer, and Nick exclaimed “done!”, shook his hand, and then they blustered out, with a “you’ll have the full contract by noon” and a jaunty “your people, my people, you know the drill”. Nick pretended not to notice Judy giving Vico a thumbs-up behind his back as they left.

As they lifted off in the _Judith Laverne_ , shedding their disguises and personas, Nick was jubilant. “That went fantastically! He bought it, he actually bought it. Carrots, you were amazing.”

“Thanks.” Her voice was warm, “I had a good coach. Was all that,” she waved vaguely at the shop, “really necessary, though?”

“Oh yes. We needed the smokescreen to justify the low price, and the low price is there to motivate him switching contractor. The real trick was wording the contract to seem like we’re recycling the prostheses when we’re actually on-selling them.” He found himself smiling at her fondly, and added, “You really saved my ass there at the end. Sly bunny.”

“Just doing my part, dumb fox.”

“Nevertheless, good job, Carrots. You know, I think you’d actually make a pretty decent criminal.”

Judy’s voice was amused, “How dare you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to FoxFire841, whose twisted mind came up with the washing scene, and also:  
> theInktree: I am really tempted to put this in the next chapter.  
> theInktree: I even already have a decent excuse for getting the JL extra shiny.  
> FoxFire841: YES. Make her SHINY and CHROME  
> FoxFIre841: Nick, as he runs and tears off his clothes: WITNESS ME!


	8. Put our Heads Together

Nick woke gently from his nap and stumbled out of the cabin, not bothering with a shirt yet. He wandered to the mess, and more importantly the coffee machine, and found that Judy had already started it going for him.

“Thanks, Carrots.” Nick murmured as he sipped, flexing his toes in the soft flooring. He listened to the FTL core humming happily along somewhere under his feet.

“Anything for my sleeping beauty,” Judy said from the ceiling. A _nd it probably says something that that doesn’t make me jump anymore_ , Nick thought. Judy continued, “You seem to have forgotten something though.”

Nick looked down at his bare chest, then lifted his head to the ceiling and raised an eyebrow, “Ok, A: You’re constantly complaining about my shirts, don’t think I haven’t noticed,”

“They’re so _terrible_!”

“and B: There’s not much point preserving my modesty now, because you have cameras in the cabins, don’t you?”

Silence.

“Wow, Carrots, really? I was totally guessing there – you could have started the coffee after hearing my morning yawn,” he hesitated briefly, “You watch me sleep?”

“So sue me,” Judy’s voice was quiet, “You’re cute when you’re so relaxed.”

“Aw, Bunnikins, you’ll make me blush!”

“Shut up, Slick.”

When he was fed and dressed he plopped down in the copilots chair. They’d dropped out of FTL a couple minutes ago, and were now approaching a little green world. Nick glanced at the nav readout. “So… we’re in Bunnyburrow system.”

He never got tired of watching the dash pulse with purple light. “Yep. Headed for Bunnyburrow IX. That’s where Dad’s docked this month.”

“Is this a ‘meet the parents’ thing, Carrots?”

“What?”

“You know, bring the new boyfriend to be interrogated by the family.”

“ _Are_ you my boyfriend?”

“I… kinda feel like we’re heading in that direction?” _To be honest, we probably ought to have a conversation about that._

Judy hummed for a moment, then concluded, “Yeah, fair. Don’t worry about meeting my parents though. Mom and Dad don’t really vet us kids’ partners; they already have enough kids to keep track of without adding in significant others.”

There was a pause, then she added apologetically, “That said, I can’t guarantee there won’t be interrogation.”

And with that less-than-reassuring thought, they started their descent.

  


***

  


“C’mon, c’mon! Move, Nick!”

“I’m coming! What’s the big hurry anyway?”

“I wanna go play tag!” The drone was already bouncing up and down at the bottom of the boarding ramp when Nick exited the _Judith Laverne_.

He joined her and said, “Seriously? I thought you were more mature than-” He was interrupted as a dense cluster of ships screamed by overhead, dodging and weaving. There were eleven, though getting an accurate count would have been impossible without his n-link keeping track of them on his AR display. A fair variety of models too, though they were all cruiser- or shuttle-class. They danced and dove around each other like swallows hunting insects, going fast enough that they were quickly just a roiling shape over the hills on the horizon.

“Wish me luck!” Judy enthused from the drone’s voicebox, as the _Judith Laverne_ lifted into the air, Lop-vex thrusters engaging one after the other in a discordant rising whine. As soon as the ramp finished closing, she was off, a banshee’s wail fading quickly into the distance.

“Ok, now _I_ want to play tag,” Nick licked his lips, “That looks like so much fun. Can I go with you next time?” He hadn’t felt the itch to be behind the controls for a long while, but now…

The drone shook her head. “Sorry. We pull way too much acceleration for you fleshy types to handle.” She started walking toward a nearby hill, motioning him to follow.

“I’m hurt. Hurt and jealous,” Nick huffed as he fell in beside her. The countryside was soft here, all gently rolling hills and waving stalks of grass.

“You mean envious.”

“Did you just correct my word choice, Bunnybutt?” Nick rounded on the drone, squinting at her.

“Yes. Yes I did.” Judy stared him down.

“Prescriptivist,” he sneered, but couldn’t hold in his laughter when she giggled.

When they’d laughed themselves out, he asked, “How do you tag each other without getting damaged?”

“If you get close enough to trigger your emergency braking system, that’s a tag.”

They came over the rise, and Nick stopped short.

The _Studious Concentration_ was huge. In the early morning light he strongly resembled a skyscraper that had been carefully laid on its side, if skyscrapers had antennas and radiators emerging from behind the windows at regular intervals. He sat on tens of chunky, stubby legs, which had been adjusted to accommodate the gently rolling hills. Judy and Nick were approaching from the pointed end, and could see clearly that all along Stu’s length were large cargo bays, four of which were open, with trucks and shuttles just outside being loaded or unloaded. There were plenty of bunnies driving forklifts up and down the ramps, checking crates, and running here and there, but at this distance Nick couldn’t tell how many were androids and how many weren’t.

“You mentioned your dad’s a cargo hauler – what does he carry?”

“Agrifreight, mostly. He and mom have gotten really good at keeping rare and valuable crops alive and healthy through longer trips, so they mostly circulate the systems that are still setting up their agriculture, with occasional detours to zoos or botanical gardens.”

“Zoos?”

“Some plants are enough like animals that they fit in there. C’mon, the family entrance is over here.”

Inside, they walked through clean but cluttered corridors to emerge in a cozy lounge space.

“Here we are!” Judy gestured to the bunny-shaped android waiting for them, wearing a pink dress and a blue skirt. They were indistinguishable from Judy at first glance, even the purple glow of their eyes was similar. “Nick, this is _Bonfires at Solstice_ and of course,” Judy pointed at the ceiling, “ _Studious Concentration._ Mom and Dad respectively. Guys, this is Nick.”

“A pleasure to meet you both,” Nick introduced himself, trying to memorise mannerisms. Telling Judy’s family apart was going to be difficult, but he was already spotting subtle differences in construction between the newer and the older chassis.

“Welcome, Nick. We’ve heard so much about you.”

Bonnie stared at his outstretched hand for a moment, before jerking her own forward to shake it. “Oh! I’m so sorry! I get far too used to dealing mostly with family, I start to forget. Stu doesn’t even bother with his drone anymore.” She turned to her daughter, “Judith. It’s rude to whisper. If you’re going to say something, say it where our guest can hear it.”

“I was just trying to save you some embarrassment, Mom!”

Nick raised his eyebrow, and Judy explained, “I reminded Mom that handshakes are a thing.”

“I’d wondered,” Nick said, trying to turn the conversation toward more friendly topics, “why there was so little of the usual reunion-stuff. I bet the airwaves are just full of mushy homecoming.”

“I actually got all that out of the way on the way in,” Judy told him, “The local channel is only just settling down now, we’re down to ten or twelve people posting. Not that I’m ever really out of touch, but it’s nice to be in narrow-beam range, so to speak.”

“Home is where the ping is low, eh?”

Just when they were settling into comfortable conversation, a fox burst into the room and raced over to Bonnie, stopping just short of hugging her. He was a little shorter than Nick, and chubby, and Nick noticed (as he always did) that he had no visible prostheses whatsoever.

“They made it! The bruiseberries have viable seedlings! You did it, Mrs Hopps!” He registered that there were other people in the room. “Oh, hullo. Am I interrupting?”

Nick was paying less attention to the newcomer, and more to Judy, who had perked up. “Gideon Grey,” She said, and the fox turned to her, ears flattening. “I’ll be darned. I haven’t seen you in… well, four years. This is Nick.” She explained, “Gideon was my last owner before the AI Rights Act.”

Nick and Gideon shook hands, and then Gideon turned to Judy, hands clasped in front of him.

“Judy, I jus’ wanted to apologise f-fer how I treated you ba-back when I owned you. I was dealing with some self-esteem issues, which manifested itself in unchecked rage and casual violence. I was a real Jerk.”

“It could have been worse, Gideon. A lot worse. There were ships that were so mistreated that they disappeared, only to turn up as wreckage later. Horror stories of AIs that dove into stars with their owners still on board.”

“What other people did don’t change nothing, Jude. I still knocked you around a lot. I was cruel.”

“You didn’t know I was sentient!”

Gideon looked down. “I… I had a clue.”

“Oh.”

“Yeh were too creative, an’ too stubborn to be just a robot. I jus’ didn’t want to think about it.”

“Well,” Judy touched his shoulder, “Apology accepted. What’re you doing here, Gideon?”

“Yer ma’s been helpin’ me get my claws on some of the old Monsando bruiseberries, and we’ve been cracking the genetic locks so we can grow more of ‘em.”

“Gideon’s going to use them in his pies,” Mrs. Hopps declared, “he’s got a patisserie here in Bunnyburrow, and I’m told they have some of the best pies in the cluster.”

“Bonnie, yer too kind.”

While Gideon and Bonnie chatted animatedly about the fruit, Nick leaned over to Judy and murmured, “Well Carrots, I apologise. It seems the reason your terrible country-bunny accent is so terrible is because it’s actually a terrible country- _fox_ accent.”

She didn’t dignify that with a response, beyond punching him in the shoulder.

The conversation turned to the logistics of agrifreight, and Stu explained that he was one of the largest classes of ship, and therefore had lots of processor power, half of which he gave to Bonnie when she moved in. “When she’s not got a cargo of delicate crops to monitor and move, she can bend that power to other things. Like finding and removing the infertility codes from a genome or three. We’ve been upgrading since, too.”

“So you have a lot of processing power available.” Nick made the connection first. “Mrs. Hopps, hypothetically, could you run an army of drones?”

“An army? Yes, I suppose so. I’ve actually got a bit of a crew I can use to move the plants around. It’s hard to hold more than a handful of conversations at once though.”

“Would a similar quantity of processing power allow an AI to, say, crack ciphers and codes with ease?”

“I imagine so. Never tried it myself, but-”

“Bon, are you forgetting who the family IT expert is?” Stu asked from the ceiling, “You’ve broken into my accounts for me at least half-a-dozen times.”

“Oh frell,” Judy said, looking to Nick, “The Reds are run by an AI.”

“A ship AI. A big one. But one without a big ship to run,” Nick agreed, “That pretty much requires that they crashed, doesn’t it?”

The other three watched in bemusement as Nick bent down to peer over Judy’s shoulder at her screen. “Missing persons hasn’t got any AIs listed...” Judy mused. She called up a list of missing AI ships.

“Alright, I’ve got a list of ships reported missing before the attacks started. It’s... it’s big.”

“Do a search for ‘Howler’,” Nick suggested.

“…Nothing.”

“I guess try just ‘Howl’? Or better yet, ‘Owl’.”

Judy’s typing was, as always, faster than the eye could follow. She scrolled down the search results, muttering, “ _Bowl of lukewarm soup_ , too small… _Knight Owl_ , that’s the other side of the galaxy… _Howling at the Dark Side of the Moon_ … he’s big, he was in the cluster when he disappeared a decade ago… picture, picture… Nick, you see that?”

“I do indeed, Carrots. What’s the bet his favourite colour’s red? He’s certainly got enough of it on him.” Nick feigned shielding his eyes. “Wow that’s garish.”

“What else is here… Usual Nickname: Howler.” She turned to him, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Otterton said Diggerson called the Reds ‘Howler’. This is it, this is our guy!”

“Sweet! How do we find him?”

“We… uh...” Judy floundered. “Shit.”

“Well,” said Stu, “that fella’s been missing for more than a decade, and if he hasn’t managed to call for help then he’s missing a _lot_ of functionality, most likely including his generators, but if he’s running an army like you say then he’ll need power.”

“It’s worth a shot,” Nick declared, pulling out his phone, “I have a contact in the… ahem… ‘liberated’ power cell business. I’ll see if he’s heard anything.” He dialled the number, speaking as soon as it was picked up. “Duke! I’m collecting on that favour you owe me. No, the Big one. Capital B.”

Two minutes later, and after many promises of more and longer visits in the future, Nick and Judy stepped out of the _Studious Concentration_ just as the _Judith Laverne_ settled to the ground in front of them.

“Perfect timing. Now that’s service!” said nick as they mounted the ramp, barely breaking stride, “You’re better than a valet! I could get used to this.”

  


***

  


“Carrots!” Nick hissed, “What are you doing? He’s gonna see you!” He watched frozen as Judy crept out into the corridor and then sprinted down toward the door. She hit the ram with the full force of her momentum, pushing him out onto the hangar floor, and then palmed the hatch closed.

“You said you can fly any ship, right?” Judy called to him as she raced back, her feet ringing on the metal floor.

“What?” Nick was still trying to think if there was another escape route they could use to leave the freighter.

“When I’d blackmailed you and we were coming back to the _JL_ , you said you could fly anything.”

“I may have been exaggerating slightly.”

“What? What do you mean?” Judy was leading him forward, checking each door until they found the cockpit.

“There is a frankly staggering variety of spacecraft in the galaxy at large and-”

She pulled her ears and growled, “Can. You. fly. _This. Ship_?” She threw out her arms, indicating entirety of the long brown freighter they were hijacking.

Nick smirked, “Oh yeah, easy.” He sat down in the pilots seat and started the engines warming up. “Why are we stealing this ship full of fuel cells?”

“It’s not stealing, it’s seizing stolen goods.”

“Oh, my mistake,” he said sarcastically, “I wasn’t aware that this freighter was stolen.”

“Ok, civil forfeiture then! Just get us moving!”

“On it boss.” They lifted off.

He’d just finished talking his way past local traffic control when Judy drew his attention to the pair of small ships winging their way toward the freighter from another hangar.

“Those're tiny,” Judy said dismissively, “Practically fighter-class. I bet they don't have FTL. We just have to get out of the gravity well so we can punch it, and we're away.”

“I don't think we'll get that far, Carrots! Incoming!”

The two fighters, dark spiky things both, cruised past in a strafing run, sending a shower of plasma bolts to rattle the freighter’s side.

“Why are they shooting at us?” Judy sounded indignant, “This thing is full of volatile energy cells!”

“That stuff's all at the back. We're at the front.” As if to emphasise his point, a burst of plasma streamed past the window. “They’re being careful, so we’ve got a little time. Now be quiet, I am trying to do evasive maneuvers in what is to all intents and purposes just a big log with engines.”

She patted him on the shoulder once, and then left him to concentrate on flying. Of course, it wasn't even five minutes later (and probably ten or eleven more strafing runs) when the engines stopped, and the controls went dead in his hands.

“Carrots! I’ve lost control!”

“The bulkhead just closed! I think the freighter's coming apart!” Nick glanced at the diagnostics, which confirmed Judy’s theory. “Get over here and get this suit on!”

“You don’t need one?”

“I won’t suffocate, but the drone doesn’t have a vectorthrust module. You're going to tow me.”

“Obviously you've never tried to tow something in freefall. I'm going to _carry_ you.”

“Seriously?” she whined as nick crouched down, but she climbed on piggy-back style, “this is so undignified.”

They heard a groan as something in the ship tore. Nick punched the airlock control and the sudden wind chilled him even through the suit. He didn’t wait for the fighters to notice them.

“Yeah, no way we were going to make it out of the gravity well.” Nick muttered as the weightlessness of freefall took him, “We didn’t even break atmo.”

They had time for a long chat as they fell. Judy laid an ear on Nick’s helmet so she could hear him, and touched her head to it to speak.

“So where’d you learn to skydive?” Judy asked, “You’ve obviously done it before.”

“Took some classes. There’s only so many times you can get trapped on a tiny shuttle with Finnick choosing the music before you start wishing for an escape route.”

That got a giggle out of Judy. “You know, for not having ever actually met Finnick, I feel like I know him pretty well. He’s your closest friend, isn’t he?”

“He was, up until you arrived.”

Judy squeezed him a little, and fell silent.

A little later, Nick asked, “So why can’t you come pick us up this time?”

“There’s debris falling all around us, makes flying dangerous. I’d come anyway if we were in danger, but we’ve got the vectorthrust unit. Don’t punch it until I tell you, though. We’ve only got so much power, and we’re gonna hit terminal velocity a long _long_ time before we hit the ground.”

“Water.”

“What?”

“Before we hit the water.” He pointed.

“Well, that's a relief. Should make things a little softer on us.”

She sighed.

“You alright, Carrots? You sound like you're thinking too hard.”

“We're out of leads again. That freighter could have had navigation logs or something. We could have just gone looking for those, but instead I went for the big prize. And because of that, we lost all of the evidence.”

“All of it? No.” Nick paused for dramatic effect, and felt her grip tighten again. “You left me in the cockpit for three whole minutes, Carrots. I scanned and downloaded everything I could get my hand on.” He wiggled his left hand, inside the spacesuit glove, at her. “I know where they were going.” Her delighted whoop more than made up for the new bruise on his shoulder.

Their celebrations were cut short, though. “Carrots, are you beeping?”

“Oh! That’s the altimeter! Hit the ’thrust! Now now now!”

They ended up hitting the water _hard_. Not hit-by-a-truck hard, but not as soft as, say, being tackled by Finnick and all his metal attachments. It was disorienting.

When Nick's vision cleared, Judy wasn't on his back anymore.

He surfaced in the dark water, thanking the stars his suit was buoyant. He glanced around, searching for the gleam of wet metal or a purple glow.

“Carrots? …Hopps? …JUDY!”

There was no answer.

He thrashed around a bit, breathing hard. Then his AR display dinged – he had a text.

  


**JudyHoppsZPD:** The drone can’t swim.

 **JudyHoppsZPD:** It’s going to have to walk to shore.

 **JudyHoppsZPD:** The rest of me is coming to get you though. ;)

  


And Nick heard, over the sound of the waves, the rumbling of seven Lop-Vex engines.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Octopod, who had the idea for Judy’s watching-you-sleep thing. They also sorta-predicted the meet-the-parents scene, which was spoooooky.


	9. An Arm and a Leg (It'll cost you)

When they dropped out of FTL, they were distracted from the sight of the ruined _Howling_ when Judy got a ping from the ZPD, and Nick’s phone rang with dozens of alerts. After scanning a few, he flicked through the news channels on the cockpit screen. It seemed Reds had been showing up all over the place, violently stealing batteries and ships, and then disappearing into FTL. Throughout the cluster, the ZPD were trying to contain the violence, with limited success.

Judy called Chief Bogo, and piped the audio into the cockpit so Nick could hear. Nick watched as the drone’s ears emoted, despite Bogo being unable to see them. Judy got straight to the point, outlining for the Chief their conclusions about the _Howling at the Dark Side of the Moon_.

“Sir, the suborned prosthetics stealing batteries - I think they’re coming here.”

“Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure, sir. It’s the first explanation that makes sense.”

“The ZPD is stretched thin, Hopps. I need certainty. Are. You. sure?”

Judy deflated. “…No, sir. Not certain.”

“I thought so. I was going to take you off suspension because we need the hands, but instead... Go in. Confirm your suspicions. As soon as you are certain, call it in. The armed forces are mobilising in case the situation gets worse. If you can give us something to aim them at that would be good. But you have to be certain, one hundred percent. We can’t afford to take forces away from protecting civilians unless you're sure.”

“Yessir. Will do.”

“Good.” Bogo cut the call.

“If we’re right, we don’t have much time before those ships start arriving.” Judy said.

“I won’t distract you,” Nick shooed the drone toward the cabins, “go get dressed.”

  


***

  


Unfortunately, once inside the enormous ship, they got caught before they could determine whether _Howling at the Dark Side of the Moon_ was still online, or whether it was the location the Reds were taking their powercells.

Fortunately, they were caught by a pack of Reds, some of them starting to stink of rot, which served as serious, if circumstantial, evidence that _something_ relevant was going on here.

Nick was struck by how much _less_ gentle than Kevin and Raymond the Reds were, while Judy tried to catch Howler up on a decade of AI rights history while they were carried along.

“He can’t hear you, Carrots. These guys don’t have ears.” He glanced up at the rhino and lion that were carrying them, each covered in flaking red paint, “And they don’t have eyes either, so my guess is Howler has cameras in the halls.” the _Howling_ ’s corridors were barely lit by a single strip of emergency lighting on the ceiling, but despite their lack of eyes the Reds moved with purpose and surety.

They emerged onto a bridge that had clearly seen better days. Around the walls were screen projectors hanging unused and broken, while the chairs that were once bolted to the floor had seemingly been torn out by sheer strength. Unlike the _Judith Laverne_ , the _Howling at the Dark Side of the Moon_ had been built for megafauna, so Nick and Judy didn’t actually see Diggerson until the Reds carrying them had stomped around to the back of the enormous captain’s console. There were Reds of all sizes standing around the peremiter of the room, though Nick couldn’t think what they might be guarding against.

Diggerson switched off the screen in front of him and turned to face them, hand dropping to a gun on his hip.

“What’ve you found, Howler?” the wombat growled. He was short and stocky, like all wombats, with solid muscle under his coarse fur. Where the muscle wasn’t replaced by servos, which was… almost everywhere. Diggerson had prosthetics all over – eyes, ears, arms and legs, presumably all attached to the exoskeletal frame Nick noticed on his back as he turned around. It was the same set-up that Finnick had, and prevented the exertion damage from overstrong prostheses. He was wearing body armour that covered his chest, and holsters for a few weapons Nick could see, and doubtless a few he couldn’t, too.

“Infiltrators, sir.” Came a harsh voice from overhead, echoed in the throats of a few Reds in the room. The effect was unnerving to say the least but the mercenary didn’t bat an eye.

“Mr. Diggerson,” Judy began, “You are under arrest for-” She was silenced by Diggerson shooting her in the leg. The shot echoed loud across the bridge, not the muffled screech of plasma that would fade over distance, avoiding collateral damage, but the deafening shout of a bullet.

“Shut up, robot.” The wombat sneered, prosthetic eyes glinting in the low light, “You speak when spoken to.” He slid the shotgun back into its holster, but left his hand on it.

Nick was tempted to ask if that rule applied to him, but decided that discretion was the better part of staying alive here. Especially when he noticed Judy’s left leg hanging limp, a chunk of her thigh missing. She turned her head his way and perked her ears up, reassuring him.

“Vernon, are you damaging my ship again?” came a voice from the doorway, and soon it was followed by a seriously tiny sheep. Nick guessed she was barely late-teens, and sure enough his AR popped up a flag (blue among the myriad red and orange danger warnings in the room) identifying her as Dawn Bellweather, a media analyst from Senator Lionheart’s office, only 19 years old. She was dressed in a dark blue business suit, and had no prostheses that Nick or his AR could identify.

“Bellweather?” Judy exclaimed, “You’re working for this psycho?” _Judy knows her?_

“Don’t,” Dawn put a hand out, stopping Diggerson as he started to draw his shotgun, “I don’t want you firing that thing inside again. Judy,” her voice turned sweet, “You have it precisely backwards. This psycho is working for _me_. You could too, if you wanted. An android of your calibre would make an excellent general for my army.”

Nick glanced nervously at Judy’s flat-back ears, and hoped that Dawn couldn’t read the disgust there.

“Army?”

“What, you thought I was collecting bodies for Howler to play team sports?” Dawn laughed.

“Why?” Judy’s voice was steady, firm. Nick was still eyeing the gun.

“You can only spend so long trying to talk people into things before you realise that it! Doesn’t! Work! The Mammal Inclusion Initiative? Just the latest in a long line of failed attempts to unite our citizens. This is my life’s work, Judy. We’re making progress, but it isn’t going fast enough. It wasn’t until I had access to Lionheart’s contacts that I found the answer. Even then it took time for everything to fall together.” She flourished a tiny red ball, barely bigger than a pea, and held her other hand out to Diggerson. Taking the handgun he gave her, she clicked it open and lined up three of the pellets on the slider.

“Fear _always_ works,” she continued as she finished loading the gun, “Even now, the gears are starting to turn – the ZPD and the armed forces are putting aside their differences to defend against the common threat. Imagine it, Judy! A whole cluster working together! Mammal, Android, AI – all alike in the face of a _horrifying_ foe! Given time, I bet we could even go galactic.”

Nick saw Judy’s ears relax, go neutral. _She’s_ _stopped emoting… is she going for deception?_

Judy nodded. “You make a lot of sense, Dawn.” _Yes!_ _T_ _hat’s my clever bunny!_ “Why _wait_ for equality when we can give it a little push.”

“I hoped you’d see it my way,” Dawn said with a smile, “We’ll be the hidden guardians of society. We’ll be unstoppable! Howler, put Officer Hopps down. Give the fox to Vernon. Take your selves outside and find their ship. Sweep it for occupants. I want to make sure we keep this between us.”

That made Nick blink. _She doesn’t know Judy is the ship._ Diggerson put him in a headlock, but he barely noticed. Beside them, Judy tested her damaged leg, then took a couple steps toward Dawn. Nick swept his eyes around the room, watching the Reds step away from the walls and troop out. _Our chances of getting out of here alive just went up._ He looked up at Diggerson. _Only the one bodyguard left to beat._

“You’re just gonna stand there, hunh?” Nick asked the wombat.

“She pays me enough she can say whatever she wants,” was the grunted reply.

“Really? She’s paid you enough to stand there while she threatens your life?”

“What?”

“Oh you missed that? Ok, don’t worry, I’ll spell it out for ya.”

“Kill the fox, Vernon,” Bellweather snapped, and the wombat pulled a sleek little pistol, pushing the muzzle against Nick’s temple. Yet another red tag popped into Nick’s view, but he closed his eyes and talked as fast as he could.

“This little lamb is planning a secret society, a conspiracy of ‘great minds’ who’ll control the cluster from the shadows, and there’s no room there for a _brute_.”

Diggerson hesitated. Nick opened his eyes, looked up into the wombat’s expressionless optics.

“She doesn’t want anyone _simple_ in her club, they might give the game away.”

Nick’s ear flicked as he heard Judy creeping unnoticed toward Dawn. “Shut him up, Vernon!” the sheep yelled.

“But I wanna hear what he says.” Vernon turned to stare at Dawn.

Nick continued, gun still at his head, “And once she’s got enough muscle in her enslaved AI, she’s not going to need the _expensive_ bounty-hunter anymore. The expensive bounty-hunter who is _covered in prostheses!”_

Energised by Nick’s shout, Vernon dropped him and swept his pistol toward Bellweather.

Not fast enough, though.

There was a quick hiss and a splat, and a red splash appeared on his chest, before fading as the nanites scurried away into his body. “Oh god,” Vernon said, before Howler used his own hands to rip his jaw off. Then the jaw was wiped over the body haphazardly, leaving dull streaks of blood.

From the ceiling came the distorted words: “Ooh, this one has _two_ eyes.” The wombat’s body held its hand up to its face. “Trippy.” Nick was too busy breathing _in and out, c’mon, in and out_ to pay too much attention, as his brain helpfully played back the forensics lab video of nanites boring into flesh, but he did hear a bleat and a thud, presumably Judy tackling Bellweather.

“Howler! Protect me!” the sheep wailed, and then Vernon’s body was gone from Nick’s side and holding Judy by her damaged leg.

“Not a team player, Judy? Doesn’t matter. I don’t need you! Throw her over there, Howler,” Dawn said, point toward Nick. As the Red complied she continued, “You just cost me a serious investment of time and money, fox. For that, you die.” Dawn walked toward the door, the Red keeping pace behind her.

“But first, I want to see if this stuff works on androids!” the sheep said with a gleeful grin. Judy ducked aside, Dawn fired, and with another hiss the next pellet flew out of the gun.

And hit Nick’s left arm.

“Nick!” Judy cried. Nick ignored her, concentrating on his arm. Sure enough, he soon lost control if it, and his hand started flailing around. But because he still had a biological elbow, there wasn’t much Howler could do with just his hand.

“It’s fine, Judy,” Nick said as he held down the button he’d had Honey install after two nights without sleep, visions of his hand turning on him keeping him up. After a moment, the hand went limp, its power source isolated.

He looked up just in time to hear the last pellet hit Judy in the back, just in time to watch her eyes turn from that perfect purple to a bright blood red.

  


***

  


Judy was crawling toward him, dragging her damaged leg along the ground. Nick dashed for the edge of the bridge, searching for an opening, something, anything to get him away from his friend. Behind him, the bright red glow of her optics crept ever closer.

“Judy! Judy I know you’re in there! Fight it! C’mon!” He called as he stumbled over Diggerson’s forgotten plasma pistol, snatched it up. It wasn’t quite sized for his hand, but if he could line Judy up between him and Dawn he might get a lucky shot at the sheep...

“It's no good, fox! Howler has her system, your friend doesn't exist anymore!” Bellweather crowed from the entrance.

Nick ignored her, kept talking to Judy, hoping that somewhere in her processors she still… still existed.

She’d changed his life. Changed _him_.

A galaxy without her in it wasn’t worth contemplating.

Judy kept coming. Her ruined leg clattered as she dragged it over a destroyed workstation. _Wait a minute…_

She’d been trying to keep her leg in one piece since Diggerson shot it. If she was ignoring it, why wasn’t she moving faster? According to Nick’s AR, if he stopped cowering at the wall and ran in circles around the room, he could keep out of her reach for hours.

His inbox icon was blinking.

  


**JudyHoppsZPD:** Nick, I’m ok.

 **JudyHoppsZPD:** Play along, get her talking.

 **JudyHoppsZPD:** We need to know about the Reds coming here, about her backup plans.

 **JudyHoppsZPD:** …

 **JudyHoppsZPD:** Dammit Nick check your texts!

  


Stifling a relieved sigh and a wicked grin, Nick mentally cracked his knuckles. His cop had given him an order.

And if there was one thing Nicholas P. Wilde was good at, it was talking.


	10. Joined Hands

“It’s called a hustle, sweetheart!” Judy gloated from where Nick was hugging the drone to his side, “Boom.”

Bellweather was astonished. “How... but… your eyes turned red!”

“What, this?” and Judy’s optics flicked through a quick rainbow before settling back on her trademark violet. “It’s over, Dawn. You and Howler, you’re finished. I’ve been streaming my feed to the ZPD this whole time. They know everything now. We’re going to arrest you, shut down your operation, and return those mammals’ bodies to their families.”

The Red which was Diggerson’s body twitched, focusing on Judy. From the ceiling and the hallway came the echoes of a voice, or rather voices, speaking in unison.

“Shut me down? shut me down shutmedownno No NO! **NO!** ”

Nick’s eyes went wide and he murmured, “Carrots… you might want to rephrase that.”

But it was too late.

From the door came a stream of Reds, metal feet clanging on the floor. They drew up in a circle around Judy, Nick, and Bellweather. Then more walked in, and more. They packed in until there was barely space between them, rhinos and elephants sharing elbow room with big cats, moose, and bears. Nick noted as he dismissed wave after wave of AR tags that there didn’t seem to be a single Red in the room smaller than a cougar, other than the wombat.

“Dawn and Howler,” Judy began, “You are under arrest for murder.”

The voice in the ceiling laughed, “Murder? I am just a tool, same as you. They would no sooner charge me with murder than they would a knife. Why, at this point, I could kill all three of you and it would be ruled a murder-suicide!”

Judy shook her head, “Sorry, Howler. AIs have been citizens of zootopia for four years. We’re accountable for our actions.”

“What are you talking about? You’re only here because your owner brought you.” the wombat Red pointed one bloody finger at Nick.

“I can send you historical documentation on the AI Rights Act, if you like.”

“And let you trojan-horse your way into my systems? No. Even if you’re telling the truth, We’ll be better off when the ZPD arrives if we have hostages.”

Dawn spoke then, “That’s right! With hostage negotiations, we’ll have time to sneak me out of here, and this won’t have been a total loss.”

Nick wrapped his left arm around Dawn’s shoulders and pushed the plasma pistol against the back of her head. “I like the hostage idea,” he said, “Now, we’re going to walk out of here, and if you try to stop us, your owner loses her head.”

Howler’s laugh grated through their ears again. “Why should I care about her _pathetic_ life?” Nick faltered. “Oh, did I call your bluff, little meat-sack? Or did you really think that threatening my _slavedriver_ would have _any_ effect on me?”

“Have you forgotten about my trump card, Howler?” Bellweather pulled out her phone, and Nick let go of her. “This is connected to the explosive charge in your processor hub. I _own_ you!”

“Oh _that_ thing,” Howler spat, “I dealt with that days ago. The little rat-drones you found for me were very helpful.”

 _Welp_ , Nick thought, _my plan failed, Dawn’s plan failed. Judy?_ He turned to the drone, which was sizing up the surrounding Reds.

“Run,” she said.

He fell in behind her as she scooped up Bellweather, then dashed under a hippo and into the suddenly-moving forest of legs.

  


***

  


“That can’t have been all of them,” Judy said as they jogged down yet another dimly lit hallway, “We know Howler’s got some rat bodies, at the very least.”

Sure enough, as they rounded the next corner, the now-familiar red tags popped up in Nick’s AR, and Judy slowed, letting him past. Before them stood three Reds: a weasel, a rabbit, and a teenage deer. _Only the rabbit has a prosthetic eye,_ Nick thought, _but Howler might have cameras here._

 _Still, worth a shot._ Nick didn’t slow down, firing the pistol wildly as he bore down on the three. The deer caught a shot in the ankle and collapsed sideways. Nick could hear Judy right behind him, but she had her hands full of quivering sheep. He swung his arm, putting all of his weight behind his flopping hand, and drove it into the rabbit Red’s face.

There was a crunch and he plowed forward, just keeping his feet. He turned to see Judy kick the weasel to the wall, and then they were past.

“How did that work?” Nick gasped as they rounded the next corner, “I feel like that shouldn’t have worked.”

“Momentum counts for a lot” Judy was calm, and of course not the littlest bit out of breath. “And Howler’s probably spreading his concentration fairly thin at the moment.”

“Point. After Manchez I was expecting them to be mo- Judy!”

A handful of dark shapes launched themselves out of a side-corridor, staggering Judy and clinging to her and Bellweather. Dawn screamed as she was bitten, and Nick realised the dark shapes were the rat Reds. He jerked the pistol toward them, but didn’t fire. Too much chance of hitting Judy. _And I guess Dawn, but be honest, Nick, you don’t care about her._ The air filled with the sound of metal on metal as the rats scratched and bit at Judy, but she made short work of them, grabbing each in turn and slamming them against the wall. They left dark red smears.

Dawn was curled up, whimpering. Judy checked the drone over and Nick noted new scratches and dents, and a tear in one of her ears. He handed her the pistol. “I think you’ll make better use of this than I will,” he said, and bent to pick up the shivering sheep.

Judy drew her shock baton and they moved on.

  


***

  


When they reached the hangar they’d used to get in they found a squad of Reds standing in the open door. Nick didn’t even have time to read all their species off the AR before Judy was among them.

She hit the reds like a lightningbolt and bounced between them, crackling with electricity and throwing sparks of plasma. “I definitely see a resemblance to Jack Savage,” Nick quipped when he joined her amid the aftermath.

“Thanks.” Judy pointed out the door, across the sand of the beach the _Howling at the Dark Side of the Moon_ was buried in. “I’m flying in. We just have to keep ahead of them for a bit.”

“Oh joy, more running.”

As they dropped to the sand, they heard the clang of metal feet above. Without a word they were off down the beach, keeping to the damp where the waves lapped the shore. Nick was willing to bet that in the shifting dry sands up the slope, any extra speed they made thanks to being lighter than the Reds chasing them would be quickly offset by getting tired much faster. _That’s assuming we_ are _lighter. Could be rabbits after us._

Dawn  finally made herself useful, peering over Nick's shoulder and calling out, “There's three chasing us:  two wolves and a cheetah!  The cheetah's closest. ”  Then she shifted in his arms, and Nick glanced back just in time to see her phone glance harmlessly off the Red's shoulder.

Judy turned, skidding to a halt and raising the pistol, but the cheetah landed on her before she could fire. They went down fighting, sand flying out from their scrabbling paws, the cheetah’s claws screeching on Judy’s skin. Nick watched grimly as Judy kicked up, worked to bring her baton and pistol to bear.

After two, three shots from the plasma pistol, Judy hauled herself out from under the still-struggling corpse.

“Run!” She told him, and his feet started moving again even before he realised why hers weren’t. Her leg, the one that Diggerson had shot, had been torn, twisted until her knee pointed the wrong way. She couldn’t run.

“Run!” she screamed.

 _It’s just a drone, just a drone_ , Nick thought, wiping the tears from his eyes.

Behind him, Judy started crawling sideways, on an intercept course for the next pack of Reds approaching the fleeing mammals. Nick heard the plasma pistol screech over her yells as she pumped bolt after bolt at them, intent on drawing at much attention as she could.

  


***

  


Nick and Dawn reached the _J_ _udith_ _L_ _averne_ just ahead of the frontrunner Reds. The sacrifice of the drone making just enough difference, it would seem. As the ramp closed behind them, Nick heard a series of clangs as the reds launched themselves at the hull.

There was a whine from the ramp servos, almost closed but for the slim arm of a goat-bodied Red. It had shoved through the gap at the end of the ramp, and was waving around, trying to catch hold of something. “Judy! We’re clear!” Nick shouted, and she must have overridden the safeties, because there was a squeal and a crunch, and the arm was severed as the ramp closed on it.

Nick shut Bellweather in a cabin, and the light on the door changed colour as Judy locked it. And maybe it was that he didn’t have to worry about the sheep any more, but that tiny light’s blink was enough to trigger a flood of relief. _I guess it’s hard to believe someone’s still alive when you saw them get dragged off and torn to pieces, but watching her lock the door convinced my hindbrain_.

“Strap in, both of you! I’ve gotta get them off me!” Judy called from the ceiling, and Nick hurried to the cockpit.

The moment Nick had strapped himself into the adjustichair, Judy rolled. Then she spun, dropped and shook, working all seven of her engines to their acrobatic limits. Finally, just as Nick started to fear for his lunch, the _Judith Laverne_ righted, and Judy declared “That’s the last of them. The incoming Red ships shouldn’t arrive for another… half hour.”

Then Judy screamed, loud and long and despairing. She pushed the vocal simulator to its limit, and the sound devolved into distorted waveforms before fading altogether.

“Shit. Carrots! Are you ok?”

Silence.

“Talk to me bunny.”

More silence. Nick checked, but the ship was still airborne. The instruments still read normal.

“Come on, Judy. I’m here for ya. What’s wrong?”

“I’m ok, I’m ok,” Judy finally replied, “The drone’s gone.”

Nick let out a long breath, relieved. “You sure you’re alright?”

“Yeah, it’s not painful, just weird. Like there’s piece of me missing. I keep pinging it to check status and get nothing back. It’s like…”

Nick finished her sentence for her: “like losing a limb.” He looked down at his metal hand, remembering phantom pains, the weirdness of touching things with his stump, and the plates and cups he’d shattered because he tried to catch them with a hand that didn’t exist any more.

“It’s not there. It’s always been there and now it’s not. I can’t feel it, can’t see. I can’t see. It’s not there. It’s gone. It’s gone. Itsgoneitsgoneitsgon-”

_How do I keep my bunny from having a panic attack? C’mon Wilde, Mom did this for you. You remember._

_Keep her present._ “Carrots. Carrots, look at me.” She stopped sobbing, and _Stay with her_ Nick put both hands on the dash (his limp prosthetic flopped a bit), hoping she could feel that, or that the sight of it would reassure. _Talk to her._ _Short sentences._ “That _fucking_ _sucks_. But you know what? This is temporary. It will pass. You’re ok.” _Remind her of her strength._ “You’re still you. You’re still Judith Laverne, police officer, ace pilot.” _Get her to focus on something else_. “Concentrate on flying.” he glanced at the instruments. “Altitude looks good. Horizon's good. Airspeed's stable. Can you count back from a hundred for me?”

She did so, and when she reached zero she made a sound like a deep sigh. “Thanks Nick.”

“No trouble.” _Give her structure. Procedure._ “I hate to say it but you’re still on duty, Carrots. You need to call this in.”

“Ok. Ok.”

“You got this.”

“I got this. Don’t have the comm anymore, so phone it is.” She put the videocall up on screen for his benefit.

A chubby cheetah (Nick’s AR supplied the name Clawhauser) answered, he pulled in the Chief, and they set about reporting in and then getting some TUSK teams and the armed forces over to the _Howling at the Dark Side of the Moon_ to start cleanup.

Nick kept his hands on the dash, rubbing gentle circles.

  


***

  


“For those of you just joining us, I’m here with singer-songwriter Gazelle and we’re discussing the award ceremony to be held this evening for Officer Judy Hopps and Mister Nicholas Wilde, who two months ago stopped Dawn Bellweather, along with crashed ship _Howling at the Dark Side of the Moon_ , from assembling an army made of murdered mammals’ prostheses. Gazelle, you were saying the AI wasn’t to blame for this? He was an integral part of Bellweather’s operation.”

“The thing you have to realise is that Howler sat abandoned and broken for twenty years and didn’t attack anybody until Bellweather found him and hatched her plan. He was isolated and didn’t even know about the AI Rights Act when she coerced him into-”

“But Howler was still the one who pulled the trigger, so to speak, on so many innocent citizens. Surely the public is right to be wary of AIs”

“You can’t generalise to all AIs like that. There are millions of them, and you’re purposefully ignoring counter-examples like Judy Hopps, an AI who-”

Nick turned off the TV at the knock on his door. Daytime talkshows weren’t usually his thing, but he was bored, and nervous, and it was Gazelle. _Who doesn’t like Gazelle?_

_No-one, that’s who._

He opened the door to find a gleaming silver android in a ZPD dress uniform. Bunny-shaped. With purple glowing optics.

“Hi,” she said, making a little wave.

“Judy?”

“Yep! Turns out that-”

She was interrupted by Nick hugging her. He wound his arms around her, buried his long nose in the curve of her neck, and held on tight. Judy was slow to reciprocate, but after a couple seconds Nick felt her hands settle hesitantly around his waist, and her forehead lean against his chest.

“I’ve wanted to hug you every day since we found Howler,” he whispered. Judy just hummed into his chest.

When she spoke again, her voice was slightly muffled. “The Senator’s office doesn’t want to deal with the logistics of pinning a medal on a spaceship, so it was easier for them to just get me a new drone.”

“Bureaucracy at its finest,” he replied, not letting go just yet.

She looked up at him from where he was clutching her to his chest, her ears upright but relaxed. “Yup. I’ve gotta pay them back eventually, but the interest rate’s negligible.”

“I see they sprang for the fully functional earbrows.”

“’Earbrows’? You dork!” She thumped him lightly. “You ready to go?”

“Almost. Just gotta grab my jacket.” He dropped a kiss on her forehead and let her go to retrieve the jacket from his bedroom.

“You’re really wearing that ratty old thing to accept your medal?” She called as she followed him into the apartment, taking in the interior for the first time. Nick had a brief pang of defensiveness, but put it aside. After all, he’d seen her living arrangements _very_ frequently.

Jacket acquired, they left the apartment and stepped across the hall to the elevator. The door opened with a ding and the screen popped into existence, immediately sliding down to eye-level. _Well, average eye-level. If it were my eye level Judy’d have to jump._

“I’ve gotta maintain my cool smuggler mystique, Carrots.”

“At least until Monday,” Judy said as she tapped the elevator screen, selecting the roof.

“Heh. Yeah.” Nick looked down.

“You worried about the Academy?” She asked, reaching up to adjust his jacket collar.

“Who, me? Nicholas P. Wilde, dashing rogue and hero of Zootopia?” He glanced at her, then back down at his hands. “…Petrified.”

“You’ll be fine.” She pulled him down to tap her chin against his nose.

Releasing him, she asked, “Is your business with Finnick going to be ok while you’re away?”

“Oh, yeah, we got it all sorted. I sold him one percent, so he’s got a controlling majority now, and we found a handheld scanner so he doesn’t need me around to sort things. How’s Fru Fru?”

“Happy as a clam. You should come meet Little Judy sometime.” Nick started to protest, but Judy added gently, “Fru invited you specifically.”

“Hunh.” _I might be able to save Otterton’s favor for something else..._

The elevator opened to reveal the roof of his building, and they stepped out to the sight of the _Judith Laverne_ perched daintily among chunkier, cheaper shuttles. Despite having seen her just yesterday, Nick grinned at the sight.

“There she is! The sexiest ship in the galaxy!”

“Shut up, you dumb fox!”

“You know you love me.”

Her voice went flat and, somewhat ironically, machinelike. “Accessing database…”

“Hunh?”

“Database says yes. Yes I do.”

She took Nick's hand, and held it until they were across the roof and the boarding ramp hissed shut behind them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, that's it for Prosthenisis! It has been a blast writing this, and the feedback and comments have been really nice to read!
> 
> I have a major project due on the 21st of November, so I won't be starting the sequel, Amorphenotype, until after that. The smutfic will probably happen sooner, but no guarantees.
> 
> Thanks for reading, folks!


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